Red Scarfs
by Jervis Tetch Madness
Summary: A Crowley/Bobby centric fic. Crowley's watching the snow fall, and Bobby joins in. Pure fluff. Slash. Crobby [Bundle of One-shots] Requests from Tumblr.
1. Red Scarfs and Perfect Snogging

_**Disclaimer:**Characters do not belong to me._

**_A/N:_**_And- I need to finish alot of storys that I owe you guys, but One-Shots help._

**_Warning: _**_Slash, fluff, language, homosexuality, Crobby. (Established Bobby/Crowley) One-shot. (No sexual encounters.)_

* * *

**Red Scarfs and Winter Snogging**

Crisp cold air flew by in a light flurry- gentle breeze that grew softly stronger, the sun was covered by dark grey clouds, hugging the sky like a cool blanket; Soft white flakes fell to the earth, slowly beginning to cover the ground, but patches of grass still had the audacity to show through, sticking it's brownish dying head through the frost. And Crowley found himself idly wondering the last time he watched the snow.

The frosty air nipped at his nose, turning the tips of his ears and the tip of his nose a soft pink, nearing on red, contrasting weakly against his pale pudgy face, head upturned towards the sky and feeling the flakes brush against his skin, melting instantly upon contact.

It was mid December, Christmas was well on its way, regardless if it was just another holiday that Crowley just didn't indulge in. How could he? It was Jesus's big day, who was he to spoil the fun? The King of Hell never really thought about things like the holidays- he avoided thinking about simple things like that years ago, much like he didn't indulge in thoughts about the snow, or rain, for they didn't exactly effect him directly. He never paid mother nature any mind, and she was kind enough to share the same courtesy. It was always deal after deal, condemn a few hundred souls, torture a bugger or two, then repeat the process, always very busy. It all just seemed sort of distant now.

Crowley watched as another exhale puffed and spiraled away in a white mist, before disappearing. It vaporized, and he could remember a thousand times he'd seen it before, but recalled never having a second thought about it; it was almost strange now, that he was even bothering to try.

Standing outside of Singer Salvage Yard, Crowley had intended to walk inside, say a word or two to the boys before they were off again, but he had lost track of time, and became so quickly distracted. He should have been inside a few hours ago, why was he hesitating?

He's sure he's at least been acknowledged by the boys by now, if not by Bobby, but no one walked outside, and Crowley didn't walk in.

Black clad hands buried deep into his dark trench coat pockets, buttoned up as his sholders moved upward a moment before dropping, relaxing. Crowley blinked a few snowflakes from his eyes, silently wondering how long it'll be until it decides to stop.

Crowley nearly jumped when he felt something made of cotton wraps its way around his neck, a flash of red catching his eyes before he turned his head to look at who was with him.

Bobby didn't look at the demon king, and pointedly kept his eyes on the sky. Bobby knew that Crowley was looking at him, but decided not to return the favor, attempting to keep the heat from his cheeks; needless to say it was a fruitless attempt. Crowley didn't comment, his hands slipping upward, delicate spider-like hands brushed against the cloth hanging around his neck, averting his eyes away from the hunter, he gazed at the maroon scarf wrapped around his neck, resting on his shoulders. He doesn't recall ever seeing it before.

He felt a soft, almost unnoticeable, flutter in his abdomen, and couldn't help the small smile tugging at the sides of his lips; hands dropping back into his pockets, careful not to disarray Bobby's handy work.

"It's freezin' out here," Bobby muttered after a while, shifting on his feet, "Why are you standin' out here in the first place?"

Crowley shrugged, "Enjoying the weather, darling," The demon king replied, "I'm so used to fire, snow is still a wonder."

There was a pause, "How long have you been out here?"

"A few hours, at most." Crowley said off handedly, "It's too quiet in Hell, and I'm not needed at the moment, I thought I'd stop by," There was a soft sound that escaped the demons throat, causing the hunter to look at the demon king; Crowley was staring at the clouds again, grey and panned out above their heads. Bobby watched the mans face, and can't remember the last time he'd seen someone look as content as Crowley did now. "-I suppose I became a tad distracted."

Bobby didn't reply, and they both stood in compatible silence for a few minutes. It was quite for some time, and they were just watching as the flakes became bigger and more compact, although still fluffy and light. The ground was covered in what seemed to be a matter of minutes, as the sky grew darker. Crowley didn't really notice the temperature drop, and if he did, it didn't bother him.

A sharp intake of breath caught the demon kings attention, who turned to look at the elder hunter by his side. Bobby's ears, nose, and cheeks were a light shade of red, his hat and hair had snowflakes sticking to the strands and top, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, when Crowley finally took notice.

"Damn it Robert!" Crowley shouted, causing the hunter to jump, head snapping towards the demon who was quickly stripping off his trench coat, shrugging it off his shoulders and down his arms, turning his feet slightly before maneuvering his trench-coat into the hunters shoulders. "What in the name of sin were you thinking? Walking outside in _this _weather with just that little vest? You dress heavier in the _summer!" _Crowley scowled, forcing the hunters arms through the sleeves, "Why didn't you go inside if you were so cold?"

"S-stop mother'n me," Bobby frowned, his voice wavering from the cold, "I hunt m-monsters for a living, I think I can h-handle the c-cold."

"Yes, and I can fight off Lucifer with the snap of my finger, _be realistic you moron!" _Crowley hissed, running his hands in quick up and down movements on his lovers arms, creating friction in an attempt to give the hunter more heat, "You're still human, your body's don't fight well against long exposure to cold things."

"Like you, for example?"

"Oh, now you're just flirting." The demon king rolled his eyes, dragging his hands from the hunters arms to the front of the coat, adjusting it on the mans shoulders before butting it up. Bobby muttered something about being '_a goddamn grown man' _and that he '_can take care of 'emself.' _to which Crowley rolled his eyes, replying with a witty retort.

"We're going inside," Crowley said after a moment, attempting to brush by the hunter and head up to the house; however, before he had gotten anywhere, a hand grasped at his own in an attempt to halt the demon, who flinched involuntarily at the touch. "_Bloody hell," _The demon uttered, eyebrows knitting together before taking ahold of the hunters hand once again, "You're as cold as dry ice, love."

"I'll be fine," The hunter groaned, feeling the radiated heat rush up his palms as Crowley enveloped his hands into his own, the numbness ebbing away and he could feel the skin again in those soft heated hands. "You wanted to watch the sky, so we're gonna watch the damn sky," He gripped at the others hands, preventing the demon from walking away, "now slow down ya damn idjit. I'm not goin' anywhere and neither are you."

Crowley gave the hunter an incredulous look, "Come now Robert, there's no reason to be irrational-"

"Irrational? Coming from a worried demon." Bobby nealy laughed, "I'm not gonna die if I'm out here for a few more minutes, so calm down."

The demon king looked over the hunters face before a puff of air blew past his lips, the gesture causing the air in front of him to swirl into a burst of white before evaporating away. "Fine," He muttered, "But only for a few minutes."

"Whatever you say."

Crowley hummed in response before attempting to find a comfortable stance, he had moved from one side of Bobby to the other, and felt a little out of place from doing so. Shifting at his feet, he upturned his head before stuffing his hands into his pant pockets, the area a lot less roomy than that of his coat, but worked none the less.

The snow was coming down harder, soon enough they'd be caught in a blizzard of sorts if the speed of the downfall was anything to go by. It was presumed that there was to be a few good feet of snow by morning, perhaps entrapping some of the less fortunate into their homes.

The silence ebbed on between them, but it was far from uncomfortable, listening to the wind whistle softly, the near rustle of tree leaves, or what was left of them, washed around the mens ear drums before becoming less known.

"You didn't take it off." Came an idle comment, making the demon upturn an eyebrow.

"Pardon?" He questioned, turning his head ever so slightly facing the hunter. Bobby was already looking at him, or, more pointedly, at the scarf still hanging around the demons neck.

Crowley followed his gaze, looking almost dumbfounded before giving the hunter another contemptuous look. "Of course I'm still wearing it, why would I take it off?"

"I don't know," Bobby muttered with a slight shrug roll, "Because I guess I thought you would have thought it stupid, you bein' a demon an' all." The hunter felt slightly awkward, and the look Crowley was giving him sure as hell wasn't helping. "You know.. It bein' unnecessary an' all-" Bobby cut himself off, coughing abit awkwardly before averting his eyes, "Nevermind."

Oh, now wasn't this just _precious_! Crowley smiled to himself, watching as the red spread from up the hunter neck and forcing itself upon his cheeks, that was _certainly _not from the cold. Hands reached up and swung an end of the scarf over his shoulder, his fingers playing with the sides for a moment.

Crowley hadn't really thought about the thing for more than a moment, other than when it was slid around his neck, he didn't really think about it as anything else. Crowley only just realised that Bobby was fussing over him (No matter how subtly or small) and the hunter was downright _embarrassed _by it.

Bobby could feel eyes on him, but he attempted to play it off; for Christ's sake h's worked under worse pressure than this before, he can handle Crowley just lookin' at him. It's not like it's a new thing; it's just how _intensely _he's being stared at is what's getting to him.

There was a quick flash of red from the corner of his eye, but pointedly ignored it, until he saw another flash not an inch from his face, and a pressure applied to the side of his neck. He turned to look at Crowley, who was smirking at him; In his hands hands were the two ends of the scarf, having tossed the loop over the hunters head and pulling him closer, roping the hunter nearer.

"Have I ever told you how enduring you are, love?" Crowley drawled, edging his hands up on the scarf slightly, getting a grip, before pulling it downward somewhat, forcing the hunter to eye level with the shorter demon.

Bobby had a look of surprise flash across his face, to which the demon drank in with his eyes, smirk growing somewhat wider, "Oh chin up, darling, It's not like you haven't done this before." The demons breath rolled off of the hunters face, who, in response, could help the edges of his lips turn upward, if only just a tad.

Crowley pressed his lips against the others in a chaste kiss, Bobby let out a tiny surprised noise, but soon melted into the feeling. Before the kiss could deepen, Crowley parted, feeling the rope being pulled from his hands, the moment of distraction gave the hunter enough time to slip the cotton away from the demon before twisting the scarf around his neck as well, wrapping it around them both.

Before Crowley could comment with some sort of witty retort, or sarcastic reply, Bobby captured the demons lips once again. The flick of a tongue over chapped lips, the heat of breath brushing against both of the males faces; Crowley nipped at the hunters lower lip, almost absently, reaching upward and intertwining his fingers under the hunters hat and into his dark brunette hair, forcing his head to stay firmly in place.

Bobby let go of the end of the scarf, his hands shifting and wrapping around the demons lower back, pulling his softly pudgy body flush against his own. The demon opened his mouth, allowing the hunters tongue to push past, roaming around the demon kings heated crevice. There was nothing heated about the kiss, no lust, no passion, just unadultered emotion, seeping through the two mates.

Crowley felt the hunters scratchy beard against his cheeks, and couldn't help but smile into the kiss, it tickled. Like it _really _tickled. The two broke apart with an obscene _pop _gazing at each other for a moment, Crowley still smiling like an idiot. He let go of the hunters hair, flicking the top of Bobby's hat with an amused look.

"You still cold?" Bobby shook his head, "Are the boys still here?" The hunter paused.

"_Balls!_" Bobby pulled the scarf off from over his head, receiving a half amused eye roll from the demon king as he quickly jogged back to the house, Crowley called after him, making the hunter pause, hand on the door and turning around. "Yeah? What is it?"

Crowley adjusted the red thing back around his neck, fingers moving over the soft fabric.

"Thank's for the scarf." He said with a wink, and couldn't help but let out a laugh when Bobby uttered _'idjit'_ before disappearing behind the door.

* * *

_Just a silly short One-shot I made a few months ago, and never finished. I got the idea from a winter-fic (Although it was Star Trek: The Original Series, rather than Supernatural) This was made. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but yeah. Not enough Crobby fluff, so here you guys go! I probably should have mentioned it was a kiss-fic, but oh well. I hope you guys liked regardless! Thank you for reading and don't forget to reviews~! ^^ LLAP_


	2. A Real Charmer

_Chracters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Since you said it doesn't hurt to ask, how about some Crobby? There can never be enough of that. Maybe Bobby completely surprises Crowley by actually making an effort at being romantic? Or whatever._

* * *

Bobby pulled at his collar, feeling unbelievably overheated in the his plaid button up, before shifting his shoulders and adjusting his vest. His hands felt a bit sweaty, and he could feel his gut fluttering as he grabbed another book off of his desk.

Bobby had been planning this.. thing, for a few weeks now, and hadn't once felt as nervous as he did right now.

Him and Crowley had been a… _thing _now for a good year. He wasn't much for anniversary's and stuff like that, and he knows damn well that ain't Crowley's style either.

The thing is, Bobby felt this- need, per say, to show the demon how much he- appreciated him. Or something of the like. It sounded pretty damn sappy to his ears, but there wasn't really any other way to put it.

The demon had been coming over a lot sense they finally hit it off, and the king always brought some of his best drinks, and would sit there, across him or beside him, and listens to him bitch on and on about his day or about some unfortunate idjit. Crowley would straighten his books, and mend his clothes when he'd think the hunter wouldn't notice.

It was an abundance of things that would mysteriously become fixed or he'd suddenly have an endless supply of salt or paint in his basement; or wake up to the smell of food, to walk down stairs and notice his breakfast was made and the dishes cleaned.

He can't even remember if he ever told him 'thank you' let alone showed the demon the same compassion. Bobby winced at the wording but sighed regardless, slouching back in his seat.

He owed it to the demon, for both looking out for him and having his back; personally and hunting wise included.

A flutter of nervousness washed over the hunter once again when his foot hit the object under his desk.

Bobby groaned, running his hands over his face. He'd slept with the demon countless times, he's known him for a few years, seen 'em naked, and he's blushing like a virgin bride on her honeymoon- over some silly gift.

It was just a simple show of affection, that's all. Bobby kept reassuring himself that it would be over like nothing happened. Crowley would either accept the gift or return back to hell, or accept it- destroy it, _then _head back to hell.

Bobby wasn't sure why rejection was a lot easier to handle than any other outcome. It was a slim chance Crowley would like the stupid thing, and in the end Bobby just couldn't think of anything else. What scares the hunter the most is if he shows a little bit of compassion that'll scare the demon off.

The hunter shifted in his seat before scoffing. If it were that easy to scare the King of Hell away then he should have done it years ago.

Bobby fingered the lining of the book before opening it, flipping the pages idly until something caught his attention. He scanned the words silently, eyes glancing over at the clock every so often.

—

It was getting late, and Bobby had set off a few more books for the next day. His anxiety have dulled over the hours of waiting for Crowley to show when he never did. It wasn't a big deal, it could be put off until tomorrow. Crowley was the King of Hell, shouldn't expect him to make room for him during the day just because he wanted him to.

Running Hell has to be hard, besides the time down there works differently then it does on the surface.

Bobby kept reminding himself that, no matter how 'stood up' he felt. Crowley was important in Hell, and his job came first. The hunter was about to head upstairs before a loud 'clink' perked his ears.

The sound of glass hitting glass made the hunter look towards the kitchen where suddenly terribly familiar footsteps began to thud softly on the flooring.

"You know darling, I'm eventually going to replace all your swill with something more refined." Came the familiar drawl as the shorter demon walked into the doorway, leaning against the frame with a glass in his hand. "I'm tired of having to snap up my own every time I want a drink." The demon brought the glass to his lips before taking a quick tasting drink from the cup.

Bobby grunted in response, relaxing back into his chair. His foot made contact with the object again, and suddenly felt very flustered.

He couldn't go through with this, he'll just toss the thing out when Crowley left. Maybe burn it so there was no proof of it being there.

The sudden red on the hunters cheeks didn't go unnoticed by the demon king, who looked behind him to make sure there was nobody that look was directed to. He turned his gaze back to the hunter, whom, in retrospect, looked suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Something wrong love?" The demon questioned, pushing away from the door frame. He took a few causal steps forward before Bobby responded.

"Eh? Yeah- yeah." The hunter waved, "It's nothin'."

"Nothing? Nothing doesn't make your face red." Crowley taunted lightly, gesturing with his cup. He took a seat at the edge of the hunters desk, setting down his drink. "If it's not about me, I'll be terribly disappointed."

"Then be disappointed," Bobby grunted, narrowing his eyes playfully at the demon, "You ain't the only thing on my mind, ya idjit."

"I'm wounded." Crowley mused, before he frowned. "Bollocks."

"What?" Bobby looked up at him, as the demon quickly scooted off of his desk.

"Bloody demons," Crowley growled, "In a bit of a pickle."

"How can you tell? Got demon radio or something?"

Crowley snorted, "Something of the sort," He straightened his suit. "Well I best be off-"

"Wait!" Bobby said hastily, regretting it almost instantly when the word came out of his mouth.

_It's now or never. _Bobby steeled himself, his hand slipping under his desk momentarily, his hand touching glass a moment before reaching a bit further. A cold stem pressing against his fingertips, gingerly snatching it and placing his arm behind his back so the demon didn't notice it.

Crowley gave the hunter a confused look, before smirking. "Oh? Does my favorite pet want a goodbye kiss?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, but said nothing, maneuvering around the desk and facing the demon properly. Crowley leaned forward and captured the hunters lips in a quick chaste kiss, and was surprised when he felt the lips remove themselves and placed in a slight kiss on his cheek, lips near his ears. A rough hand gently grab his shoulder.

Crowley heard the words "Thank you," mumbled into his ears and felt something light press against his chest. He raised an eyebrow at the hunter before his eyes darted downward.

His eyes widened slightly as a single red rose was being held out to him. Heat rose up his neck and rest on his pale cheeks before looking back up at the hunter, whose eyes were everywhere but on him.

A warm feeling rose in his chest and fluttered about; it was a feeling that he was unfamiliar with, but it wasn't unwelcome. The silence dragged on, and Bobby looked absolutely precious, and ready to bolt.

A hand reached up and wrapped around the stem of the flower, his hand brushing against the hunters, forcing the man to look at him. Crowley smirked, before pressing his lips fully on the man once again.

Leaning away slightly, face only inches away as he flicked the hunters cap playfully. "Anytime sweetheart." And he was gone.

Bobby stared at the spot that the demon had vanished from, flower missing. Bobby couldn't help but smile softly to himself, before turning and making his way to bed; and if a certain somebody crawled into bed later that night next to the hunter, nobody commented about it.

* * *

I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Home you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP


	3. Les Mis

_Chracters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: I want a Crobby fic where Crowley gets tickets to a production of Les Mis and has his own private box but no one to go with so he kidnaps Bobby and brings him to the show._

* * *

The demon king sighed, giving the tickets one last glance before setting them off to the side. He remembered how excited he was about this, because _finally _tickets were available, (Disclosing the fact that he received them in a deal) and who is he to blame if he enjoys a bit of Theater every now and again? It's Les Mis for crying out loud! Not to mention it's been a few centuries since his last showing.

It was going to be marvelous, he knew it. He should know, he's made deals with half of the cast. The only issue, that was dampening his originally explicit mood, was the fact that he had absolutely no one to go with tonight.

Crowley ran a hand over the side of his face, feeling the light scruff of his beard brush against the palm of his hand. His eyes darting over to the tickets every now and again.

He didn't like most if any of the demons who worked under him, and highly doubted that they'd even appreciate the performance. He had contemplated whether or not he should just go on his own, it wouldn't be a first. The issue with that being, he had _two _tickets, _sold out _to be more specific, who was he to let it go to waste?

He tapped his thigh in thought, reclining a bit further in his seat. He knew countless demons who would go if he demanded that they would, but would they actually sit and watch? He'd hate for some petty disruption because of some bloody demon getting a bit antsy.

Crowley sighed heavily; He thought of people he didn't entirely hate, but not many names came to mind. Sam and Dean were out of the question, even if he did want one of them to come along, it'd be futile. If you pick one, you pick both; besides, they wouldn't come anyhow, nor does he have enough tickets.

What about Bobby? Crowley almost tossed the thought out of his mind. Bobby was a stubborn sod, who wouldn't go even if it meant closing the gates of hell.

The only reason the name didn't shoot directly down was because it seemed like an optimal decision. Crowley leaned forward in his seat, a smirk edging its way onto his slightly pudgy face. Bobby does have a certain appreciation for the finer things, and it wouldn't surprise the King of Hell in the least if Les Mis sparked a certain flare in the elder hunter.

Crowley snatched the tickets, Bobby Singer it is.

—

Bobby set aside the large Norse God Myths encyclopedia, running a weary hand over his face. He'd just gotten a case from the boys just a few hours before about a certain monster that went by the name of Odin. The name, Bobby had mused, sounded a bit too familiar to be true, and everything be damned; the boys are fighting _THE _Norse God. Only problem is how to kill the bastard.

Taking another swig of his beer, he snatched another book, only to have it snatched out of his hands completely.

"Put these away, and get dressed." The voice caused the hunter to jolt out of his seat, surprise flashing over his face as he reached for his shotgun, and to his dismay it wasn't there.

"Crowley," Bobby growled, "What do you want?" He demanded, circling around his desk, careful not to turn his back to the demon. He may be used to the bastard but he didn't trust him.

Crowley pushed his hands in his pockets before raising both eyebrows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I want you, to get, dressed." He said slowly, "Come on now, we don't have all day."

"Get dressed?" Bobby was livid, "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because we're going out."

Bobby paused, "What?" Crowley nodded, tilting his head.

"Come on, darling. Simple request."

"Why?"

"You ask a great deal of questions."

"And you ignore a '_great deal of them',_" Bobby mocked, "Now start talkin'."

Crowley raised his hands in mock surrender. "Calm down, just get dressed and I'll explain on the way."

"Start explaining, _now." _Crowley merely smirked at him.

"Have it your way." And with that, the demon king snapped his fingers. Bobby flinched instinctively, before he heard the sound of cars buzzing by, horns and the light chatter of people. The hunter quickly looked around, and realized he had no idea where they were.

"What the hell-" He began, "Crowley where the hell are-" He raised an accusing finger at the demon but was cut off by the sight of the sleeve. Fine pressed, black, and terribly expensive looking. Both of the hunters eyes shot downward, seeing that his holed up plaid and jeans were missing and replaced by a suit he could never afford.

"Crowley.." Bobby began once again, abet hesitant to actually ask at this point. The demon king to this as a good sign before placing a careful hand on the hunters shoulder, weary eyes following his every move as the demon gently pushed the hunter forward.

The hunter gave him an obscene look, to which the demon king lightly chuckled, guiding the man to the front of the building. Bobby wanted to retort, fling obscenities, and demand Crowley to take him back, but his curiosity made him bite his tongue.

The hunter didn't get a chance to look at the billboard before a gentle hand pressed against the small of his back, escorting him in. Bobby glared at the demon, but Crowley wasn't even looking at him. The excitement was evident on the kings face, and for some reason the glare faltered. Bobby turned to face where they were standing, and it seemed like a lobby of sorts.

Men and women dressed up in some of the finest clothes he's ever seen, and Bobby never felt so out of place. Crowley led them over before handing in the tickets.

Tickets, Bobby saw them for a second before something began to register. Tickets, dressing up, the lobby, the place looked huge.. Was this-

"Broadway?" Bobby glanced over at the demon king who gave him a vibrant smile. Crowley kidnapped him to see a show.

Well that wasn't at all what Bobby had expected.

"Right this way," Crowley chimed and Bobby payed no mind when he felt the hand make contact with the small of his back once again, a silent guide, a few couples shooting smiles or glares in there direction and it took a split second for Bobby to figure out why.

The hunter suddenly felt very flustered as Crowley lead him into a secluded hallway before a staircase made itself known. Climbing to the top, the hunter realized where they were heading.

A booth, Bobby had never sat in one of these before. Hell, he can't remember the last time he's been to a theater. Crowley seemed to get irritated at walking and ended up snapping them up to there booth, a private one at that.

Crowley took a seat before finally glancing up at the hunter before patting the seat beside him. Bobby had never felt so stuck in his life.

"Come on now, darling, don't give me that look. Sit down Robert, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why?"

Crowley gave him an almost bewildered look, "Why would I waste a perfectly good Les Mis ticket if I planned to harm you?"

"No no.. I meant why am I- here.. uh." Bobby suddenly felt a bit awkward, Did Crowley just say Les Mis?

"Why did I take you?" Bobby felt his cheeks heat up but grudgingly glared at the demon. Him and his damn double meanings. Crowley seemed to catch on and smirked at the hunter. "Who else would tolerate me?"

He patted the seat once again, and this time Bobby, abet hesitantly, accepted. Once the show finally started and the lights dimmed, and maybe if a hand had made its way onto the hunters knee, and maybe he found himself enjoying himself more than he should have, and maybe Crowley took him out to dinner afterwards. But if this was the case, nobody commented about it, and no one was the wiser.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Home you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_

_-Also, not all of these would have been requests, some may just be me running into it and typing away this persons fantasys. You never know._


	4. Put that down

_Chracters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Request: Can you do a cracktastic crobby where Crowley finds Bobby's journal? 3 3 3_

* * *

Bobby bends over to grab his wrench, which had originally fallen from his grasp and fell underneath the elevated car. "Balls." Bobby muttered, dropping to his knees before going on all fours, rear in the air as he attempts to collect his tool. The hunter didn't remember having kicked the tool, it shouldn't have gotten that far-

"Bend a little further," came the amused comment from behind. Bobby nearly jumped at the sound, before cursing under his breath. Of course it was Crowley.

"Give me back my tool, ya idjit." Bobby grunted, leaning back so he was on his knees, his rear resting against the backs of his heels. He turned slightly to give the demon a cross look, whom, in retrospect, was smirking back at him.

"I love it when you sound angry, it makes my loins ache."

"Crowley." The hunter said sternly. Crowley merely smirked at him, but eventually rolled his eyes kind-heartedly before snapping his fingers. Always the dramatic.

A soft thudded 'clink' caught the hunters attention, and by his right sat his wrench. Bobby snatched the tool before straightening up, standing to his full height, rounding the car. His eyes left the demon to inspect the outer layer of the old 72' Ford Maverick, leaning by the other end before getting on his back once more.

"Move slower." The voice to his right startled him, having not recalled the demon king moving. '_the show-off probably didn't walk' _the hunter made a point to ignore him, and merely shuffled underneath the elevated vehicle.

It was quiet a moment, and Bobby actually believed that Crowley might have left. That was until he heard a soft thump, and a creek; the hunter turned to look at the part of his body not covered by the car, to see the backside of the demon king, whom was sitting, resting against the metal frame.

"What are you doing?" Bobby didn't really need to ask, but didn't see the harm in doing so.

"You won't talk to me."

"You haven't said anything." Bobby said flatly.

"And would you answer me if I did?" Good point.

"Well," Bobby began, grabbing the wrench and starting to loosen a few bolts. "why are you here?"

"No place better to be."

"That's a lie, you know Garth likes you."

"Ahem, let me rephrase that," Crowley sounded both amused and irritated, "There's no other place I'd _rather _be."

"Uh huh," Bobby mused idly, "How about you make yourself useful and straighten up the books in the living room, looks like hurricane stopped by after that last case, and I hadn't time to pick up."

"Pick up your own bloody books!" Crowley retorted, earning him a measured kicked from the underside hunter.

"I'll fix up that devils trap under the bed if you don't." Bobby threatened.

Crowley stood up, brushing off his pants. "Promises, promises." He muttered, receiving another measured kick to the legs. "I'm going, I'm going. Ungrateful." He snapped his fingers before Bobby could properly kick him again.

Inside, well. Lets say that Bobby wasn't exaggerating.

"Huh." Crowley commented, hands in his pockets as he looked around. Books were flung everywhere, pillows, wrappers, trash and pieces of clothing were strewn about. There were sigils on the wall that looked new, and some strange carving placed on the desk that looked fresh. Not to mention bottles of blood and bags of think animal bones were about in the most oddest of locations.

Well. Didn't this place look homey?

Crowley snapped his fingers and most of the junk was in proper order, but certain trash still littered the ground, and the place looked decently cluttered with books. Some of them, Crowley suspected, were warded from actual magic and that'd he'd have to put those away manually.

Some of the clothes were still laying along the ground, and he wondered idly if the hunter had actually warded his undergarments. It didn't seem all that far fetched.

Blowing a puff of air from his lips, the demon began working. Grabbing a dozen armful of books as he went, setting them off in separate piles before sitting down in the middle and concluding what each of them were.

Bible, French Bible, Italian Bible, Norse God Myths, Latin Bible, Greek Bible, Enochian verse of the Bible. Different languages with the same basic story, however it was funnier in Enochian.

There were strange old journals and books that dated back B.C even, with a few dead languages littering the sides. Some of them, if not a decent majority, were slightly more modern, if you could consider early A.C to be modern. Of couple of them were much newer, if not just a few years old.

He couldn't figure out why half of these books were warded, having scanned some of the content. What would a demon do with a book on how to kill vampires? They already knew how, it's pretty basic actually. What, is Bobby afraid they'll get creative?

If this was the books he kept warded, Crowley could even begin to imagine what kind of Nancy Drew littered around his shelves.

A book with a strange texture made contact with the demons hands. catching his attention.

It felt leathery than rough, unlike most to everything he's grabbed. Crowley gave the book a sideways glance. No title, no real cover, not even an author. The leather was a tattered looking black, which was turning more of a dark grey the more it faded.

Curiosity got the better of him and he flipped open the cover.

'_This Journal Belongs To-_'_

"That's curious," The demon muttered, before turning around, looking both ways to make sure no one was looking before flipping to the next page.

A lot of the words were faded, smeared, or altogether scribbled out. But the demon could make out words here and there. The date said _1987 _and there seemed to be a few swear words here and there but the demon couldn't really tell. "Must be Bobby's," He heard himself saying, before flipping to the next few pages.

They had the same basic material as the first, vague and unreadable. Crowley rolled his eyes before flipping numerous pages, nearing the end of the book. This, was more resent, it seemed. The year _2008 _on the top, and written in pen. Bobby's elegant chicken scratch littered the page. Crowley got bored on the first few lines, this was about a year or some before he even knew the humans name.

He flipped a few more pages to notice a huge gap in the time. A few good months worth. Crowley paid it no mind until he saw his name a few pages later. The demon smirked brightly before scanning the words.

Bobby came inside after a few hours, covered in oil and grease and desperately wanting a shower. His feet thudded against the old wooded floorboards as he reached his library. He half expected the place to be a mess.

To his pleasant surprise, the place was in near perfect order. Or, at least as perfect as it could be. Crowley was sitting behind his desk, feet up on his desk with his face shoved in a book, suppressing (and failing) his laughter.

"What are you reading?" Bobby asked idly, tossing his filthy rags to the side table, and setting down a few tools.

"Oh, one of my absolute favorite books." The demon nearly snorted, but controlled the wavering in his voice, "Best author I've ever read actually, he's such a lovely poet."

"Bet he is." The hunter replied idly, strolling into the kitchen and reaching into the fridge. Crowley stepped up into the doorway, book still in hand as he leaned on the frame.

"Mhm, I actually think you might of heard of him." Bobby nodded, grabbing a beer and shutting the door.

"Yeah, here's one of my favorites." Crowley cleared his throat as the hunter took a drink. Crowley mimicked as best as he could, lowering his voices in a gruff rasp, '-with his stupid hair, and his stupid suit, and his stupid pretty-" Bobby choked mid-drink, sputtering and coughing, but the demon didn't stop. "-nice ass. The boys'll never forgive me for this but I don't-"

"Where did you get that!" Bobby launched forward, making a wild grab for the book, but Crowley vanished last second, reappearing behind him as the hunter stumbled.

"You really think I have 'a great ass'?" Crowley chuckled, "Oh, how sentimental of you."

"Put that down!" Bobby snapped, reached for a nearby weapon.

"Ah, ah ah." Crowley snapped his fingers and the weapon was gone. "Play fair."

"Goddamn it Crowley!" Bobby sputtered, feeling his cheeks heat up considerably.

"I haven't even got to your wildest fantasy's Robert!" Crowley chuckled, "That's my favorite part!"

"Cro-!"

"Although I'm not partial to a threesome, you know how I don't like to share. I couldn't argue with wearing frilly pink la-"

Bobby rushed forward before Crowley could finish, catching him off-gaurd. They both tumbled to the floor, the book flying out of the demons hands and sliding under the desk.

"No!" Crowley shouted, "I wasn't done!" He tried to push himself to his feet, but Bobby grabbed his middle and pulled him back down to his level. Crowley squeaked in surprise at the unsuspecting hands grabbed him down.

"No! You're filthy!" Crowley protested, as he tried to wiggle out of his grasp, "You're getting grease all over my suit!"

"And you read something you shouldn't have!"

Crowley chuckled, twisting his body to wrap a leg around the hunters hips, flipping their position. "Oh, C'mon darling, I loved reading about all the dirty little things your mind conjures up. More entertaining than 'Girls' on HBO."

Bobby pushed and arm out before switching positions again, locking the demons legs down with his own. "You weren't supposed to read that."

The blush was still evident on the hunters face. "Well, too late for that. Although I have a few notes."

"Shut up, you idjit." The hunter spat, brows furrowing together in frustration.

"You really know how to make a girl feel of fuzzy down south," Crowley mocked, wiggling his body again, unable to get the upper hand. "Let me go."

"I don't think so."

"Do it or I'll tell Dean what really happened to his puppy." Bobby glared down at the demon.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me." Bobby didn't doubt him for a second, and after a moment he let go. Crowley shoved the larger man off of him before fixing up his suit, grease and other oils were smeared on the front and Bobby couldn't help but laugh at the distressed look on the demons face. Crowley scowled at the hunter before going over and snatching the book from under the desk.

He smirked at the cover before opening it back to the most recent update. "You really are a dirty old man."

"You would know."

"And now, so will everyone else." The grin on the hunters face fell as Crowleys rose. The demon was prepared this time and bolted for the stairs with an enraged hunter at his heels. Putting those journal entries to good use once he reached the bedroom door.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Home you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_

_-Also, not all of these would have been requests, some may just be me running into it and typing away this persons fantasys. You never know._


	5. 17th Century hunting

_Chracters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Do you think you could do a Crobby AU where Bobby is a 17th century hunter going after a Scottish witch, but ends up falling in love with her son Fergus instead?_

* * *

The hunter adjusted his clothing, fixing his trousers around his hips before reaching for his axe. The day was getting colder, and he knew he had to find a place to hideout for the night. Traveling in the dark was no safer in Scotland than it was anywhere else he's been; he'd have to be careful, especially sense a witch was somewhere in the loose.

Bobby Singer fixed the wool vest on his shoulders, before tossing his deer skinned scarf over his shoulder, wrapping it properly around his neck. It was one of the few 'thank you's he's ever received from a 'job well done'. Needless to say it was useful when the nights got unbearably colder.

He placed his axe into his pack, grabbing his warded hunting knife and slipping it into the waist of his trousers for easier access. The hunter eyed the material in his pack before grabbing the pull strings to the sides, the ropes felt dull against his rough hands, and without thinking he gripped them tightly and tugged them, forcing the opening on the pack close.

Slinging the pack onto his back, he began trudging along the trail as he was before he was attacked. A group of demons, a pack of them hiding out in the woods. One got away, Bobby could help but feel like he was losing his edge.

There was a rumor floating around that a witch had been taking human sacrifices somewhere in Canisbay. Well, it was more of an accusation, rather than a rumor, and Bobby had ignored them at first. It wasn't uncommon for people to begin pointing fingers at witchcraft when something seemed a bit odd. He finally decided to look into it when the rumors started changing into threats of action.

Bobby didn't need a women's innocent blood on his hands if he didn't look into it, and he didn't need men's blood on his hands if she happened to be real. If she was a witch, he'd finish her off and set the rumors to rest, saying something around the lines of 'moved because she got scared, ain't no real witch. A real witch would have stayed and fought-' to which those idjits at the pub would agree and go on with their lives.

Canisbay was only a few miles off from his home, so the walk wasn't as bad as they usually were. Sometimes it would take a day or two to get to a job, sometimes his buddy Rufus would give him a horse to ride. Ellen and Ash, the pubs owners, would sometime refute the idea, knowing how reckless Rufus is, accusing his of choosing one of his more ruthless steeds, but Bobby would ignore them.

Better than walking, that was for sure.

A few hours into walking, he'd finally reached a small village on the outskirts of Canisbay, Bobby heard the soft call of the sheep and cattle, continuing on his way. Some people were up and about, women setting out clothing on strung out rope, a few children here and there chancing about and laughing. Men herding some sheep, Black Smithing; the distant sound of metal slamming against metal in the distance. At the most, the small village had only a few hundred houses, most of them it seemed were used for business.

The faces around him looked oblivious, in their own worlds somewhere far off in the distance, sullen expressions littering there faces as they did there everyday routines. Bobby kept to himself, wondering about the dirt roads of Canisbay.

The day was fairly unsuccessful. The hunter had asked around about any strange activity, but no one seemed to know what he was talking about. Bobby ended up giving in the search and decided to head down to the villages quaint little pub he had passed when first entering.

He pushed through the door, making his way up to the counter before sitting down. The Pub-man stepped up to him from behind the counter, clearing out a cup, "What can I do you for?" He asked, his voice deep but bright and kind.

Bobby opened his mouth to answer, but a voice cut him off. "He'll have a Craig," Bobby raised an eyebrow when he watched the pub-man nod before heading off to collect the drink. The hunter looked behind him to see a man smirking back at him before taking a seat by his side.

Bobby wasn't exactly sure what to say, he's had people hit on him before, but never had someone order him a drink. He turned to look forward again. "You're payin'." He commented once the Pub-man had returned with his drink, before setting off to his next costumer.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," The man replied, he turned his body slightly to face the hunter before holding out his hand, "The names Fergus, by the way."

Bobby stared at the hand a moment before grasping it. "Robert."

The hunter eyed the man curiously for a moment, he was a shortish man, a bit averaged sized, a dark mop of hair on his head with equally dark eyes to match, his face was a tad pudgy with a slight stubble of a beard. The man was attractive, but Bobby paid no real mind to appearance.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you before," Fergus commented idly, leaning against the table.

"You haven't," Bobby replied, "I'm only here on business," He turned to look at him properly, "A hunting trip."

"Ah, a hunter." Fergus smiled, "What kinds of things do you hunt?"

_Oh you know, Demons, Witches, Wendigos, the usual._ "Bears, deer, wolves and the like," Bobby says evenly. "You?"

"I'm a tailor," The man replied flatly, "A two-bit one at that, but I'm not half bad." Fergus looks to the Pub-man giving him a hand signal, to which he nods. Shooting down a cup to the Scotsmen, who caught it gracefully. The Pub-man got the bottle of Craig, walking down to the men before filling the cup.

Bobby took a timid drink of his own, before setting down the cup again. Not bad. "What brings you to Canisbay anyways?" Fergus asked after taking a leveled drink to his own cup, "There isn't much over here, other than sheep and the occasional Badger."

Bobby let out a small chuckle at that, causing the man beside him to smile, "Just validating a rumor of a certain dangerous creature I was told was somewhere around here," The hunter eventually said, taking another drink of his alcohol, "It seems to me that it was just some silly old rumor."

Fergus hummed, "Well your trip here doesn't have to be a total waste," Bobby gave him a curious look, and the tailor merely smiled. "You look exhausted, and this towne doesn't exactly have a place for the idle traveler to rest," he began, "My home has an some extra rooms, and are desperately in need of filling."

He couldn't have possibly been any more direct that that. Bobby looked back at his drink- It did save him the trouble of finding a spot, that was for certain. He just didn't get why this stranger, whom he'd just met, was already opening up his home to him.

Bobby couldn't help but feel both warm and very suspicious, however he couldn't just outright deny the man. That would come off as equally suspicious- Besides, the man did buy him a drink.

"Sure," Bobby eventually said, "That'd be nice."

Fergus smiled at the hunter, a light pleased smile and allowed him to finish his drink before they were off. It was dark out when they finally left the pub, not to mention a bit nippy as well. Bobby pulled at his scarf, tugging it more securely around his neck as a soft breeze of cold air brushed by his cheeks.

Fergus led them through the main square of the village, talking vividly about this and that and the other, of people and stories, and things he's come about. Bobby assumed that Fergus thought he wasn't listening, seeing as he never waited for the hunter to respond.

To say the least the tailor looked pleasantly surprised that the hunter chuckled at one of his more wittier retorts, looking behind himself before slowing down his pace a few steps. It seemed his home was on the far side of the village, which seemed a bit obscure but Bobby wasn't exactly complaining.

As they made their way to the door, the hunter felt a hand press lightly against the small of his back, the man behind him leading him gently into his home. Fergus opened the door, pushing it open and lead the hunter inside before slipping the door shut behind him.

The cottage was a grand bit larger than most he'd stepped into, the home having an upstairs as well, which was uncommon. The walls were made of stone, along with the floor. A few doorways here and there leading to separate areas of the house.

"It's a workplace as well as a home," Fergus amended, "I take costumers down here, while my living space is up the way." He pointed to the stairs before leading the hunter to the case of stairs. Bobby looked down the fairly empty hall for a moment before allowing himself to be ushered.

Once they reached the top, they stopped at a door, Fergus pulled a key from one of his many pockets and slide the metal into the lock, before pushing it open. Bobby stepped inside while the tailor closed the door behind himself.

The home looked..-refined. To say the least.

Simple, but had a bit of class. Bobby wasn't sure if it was just the placement, or how neat the space was, but it was something else entirely than anyplace he'd ever slept in, or even around.

Cabinets and a table were off to the left, the stone cutting it off from the rest of the room. There was a door way or two by the hunters right, and saw Fergus passing him, shifting off his coat off of his shoulders and placing it on his wooden chair in his kitchen area. Bobby turned his eyes, setting over the animal skin and cloth laying around, wool of sheep piled onto a far table, pressed against the opposite wall. A few windows around the room as well.

"The bedroom is the first one to the right," Fergus spoke up, "I'll set the kettle, bloody cold outside." The last part was muttered more to himself rather than the hunter as he turned to shift through the cabinets, snatching a few matches on his way. Bobby looked to him to the door he was talking about, before setting off towards it.

Opening the door, Bobby pushed through, looking around. There was a simple bed pressed off the the left hand corner of the room, some hay was sticking out underneath but nothing notable. A clean blanket was placed on the edge, folded over the sheets, with a white pillow sitting on the other end near the wall. There was a nightstand by the bed, and a candle stick sitting promptly in the center of it. A window in the center of the left wall; it was nice.

The hunter pulled the pack off of his shoulders, walking up to the bed and setting it against the wall. Stripping off his overcoat, and pulling off his scarf, he set the heavy cloths against the back of the beds frame. There was a clank that went off in the other room, and Bobby strolled out the room after it.

Fergus was squatted downward, lighting the stone cooker, a match in his hands as he lit up the coke, tossing the lit match inside, he closed the metal door before turning a slight knob. Bobby watched as Fergus went about waving a hand over the top, before grabbing white glass kettle, reaching for a pail of water that he kept contained in one of the cabinets.

Bobby thought it strange, he'd never seen anybody have set water before. Usually they went out to the well for fresh water- '_always gotta be prepared' _the hunter thought idly as he watched the tailor pour the water into the kettle before setting it to heat up.

"What kind suits your fancy?" The voice shook Bobby back to reality, feeling a bit flustered once he realized he had been staring. Fergus turned to face him, "Orange Pekoe, or Black." He asked, "I used to have more of a variety but my mother made a stop by a few weeks back and stole most of it."

Bobby chuckled, "Nothin' to be ashamed of," He waved his hand idly, "I'll have whatever you're having."

Fergus nodded, placing one of that bags he was holding away while he set the other aside. "Well, have a seat." He offered, gesturing to one of the chairs, "I'll be right back."

Fergus left the room, brushing by the hunter, their arms made contact for less than a moment, and for some strange reason the hunter felt his chest seize up.

He was frozen in place, and was only able to move once he heard the door behind him open, and creek close. A puff of air blew itself out of his mouth. Bobby peered behind him at the door that the tailor just escaped from, hearing his footsteps as they ran down the stairs.

Bobby ran a gruff hand over his face, feeling the heat of his cheeks on the palms of his hands. The hunter took a seat, pulling out the closest chair and collapsing into it. What was wrong with him? The last time he felt this flustered was the first time he met Karen, before she died of course. Bobby ran a hand through his dark hair which felt a little bit greasy, he's gonna have to shower soon.

Bobby looked at the contents on the table, pushing a few things around. There was just some string, needles, measuring tools and such scattered around it, but nothing really note worthy. His hand bumped against something, Bobby raised an eyebrow, before grabbing the object.

It was a small little bag, "What the hell?" He muttered softly to himself, turning it over, when he say the sigil on the back. It was a Hex-bag.

"Son of a bitch." He muttered, eyebrows furrowing together.

"Son of a witch, actually." Bobby jolted from his seat at the voice, looking up to see Fergus closing the door behind him, holding a sack of sugar in his arms as he walked casually into the kitchen.

The tailor set the bag onto the counter, before turning to face the hunter, holding out his hand expectantly, "What kind of hunter did you say you were again?"

Bobby looked skeptically at the mans hand before dropping the bag into the palm. Every instinct inside of him told him to grab the tailor and force him to tell him where is mother was before killing him, but something was holding him back.

Bobby didn't answer him, and Fergus merely smirked. "That's what I figured."

He turned back around, placed the Hex-bag off to the side before going to open the bag of sugar, reaching into one of his cabinets and pulling out a small cup. "You seemed the type."

"What do you mean, type?" Bobby said slowly, eyeing the man carefully. He watched as the tailor rolled his shoulders in a shrug.

"You had this look to you," Fergus started, grabbing two careful cups and setting them beside himself, scooping sugar into one of them. "Something sullen, most knights have that look, a warrior of sorts. The kind that has seen awful things but forces himself to act normal." He stuck the cup back into the sugar, "How much?"

"Excuse me?" Bobby asked.

"Sugar," Fergus turned to face him, "With, or without?"

"Two," Came the reply, "That's all."

"Have it your way," The tailor let out lightly, "I always prefer at least five spoons."

The man grabbed the bag, closing it properly before opening up one of the lower cabinets, setting it inside. There was a low hissing off to their right, and the tailor went to grab the kettle.

Pouring the steaming water into the cup, he opened up the bag, pouring in the leaves before reaching into a small drawer and snatching two spoons. He looked back at the hunter, "Sit," He gestured again, "My mother may be dangerous, but I'm not."

The words, true or false, felt oddly comforting, cutting off some edge to the hunter that they really shouldn't have been capable of. Hesitantly, he sat back down, waiting for the tailor to bring the tea.

Fergus brought over the cups, pushing a few of the material littering around his table off to the side, setting the hunters cup directly in front of him, before going back over to the counter, grabbing a container and bringing it over.

The tailor took his seat directly in front of the hunter at the opposite end of the simple table. "You've probably have a lot of questions." Fergus began, taking a careful sip of his tea.

"I'm sure you do to." Bobby spoke up, grabbing the cup sitting in front of him. It felt hot to the touch, but was oddly comforting. They were silent for a few moments, and Fergus had gotten up at one point to light some candles around the house as it began to grow darker outside.

"So this dangerous creature," Fergus began, twirling his spoon idly, "Was it my mother?"

Bobby nodded, "I believe so."

Fergus tsked, but gave a soft chuckle afterwards, "I told her to stay underway with her doings," He brought the cup to his lips, "But she never listens to me."

"Have you-" Bobby began, not entirely sure how to finish the statement, but the tailor got the gist anyhow.

He raised a brow before shaking his head, "I know a few tricks, don't get me wrong, it just never was a joy of mine. Too messy." He set down his cup, looking the hunter directly in the eye. "Why didn't you do it?"

Bobby gave the man a questioning look, "Do what?"

"You know, kill me." Bobby actually felt surprised to hear him say it. "Oh, don't give me that look, it had to have crossed your mind at one point."

Bobby shrugged, "Don't blame the child for their parents." He stated, "You didn't do nothin' wrong, it was just your mother."

Fergus gave him a soft look from across the table, "You're very strange, Robert."

"What do ya' mean?"

"Well," Fergus began, "You think." He waved his hand a moment, as if trying to come up with something better than that. The tailor leaned back in his seat, "You're not all 'stab first and ask questions later' type, like most hunters are stereotyped as, and more often than not are." He mused, "You're more," He waved his hand again, "Different.. more," he paused, "Prepared."

"Prepared?" The hunter questioned.

"You're waiting for something, aren't you?" The mans voice came out slow, studying the man across from him, "What are you waiting for?"

Bobby shook his head, "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"You do," The tailor smirked, resting his elbow against the table, he eyed the burly man a moment before saying, "You're waiting for someone."

"Someone?" Bobby almost laughed, "And who could this someone be?" He played along.

"A monster, a demon, a creature of the night," Fergus through, "For something tainted to be pure." The wording was a bit confusing, and the tailor seemed to catch on that the hunter just wasn't getting it. "You want to find a monster that just doesn't want to hurt. A kind beast of sorts- like a vampire that doesn't want to drink human blood."

"Where are you-" The hunter started, but the tailor raised his hand.

"Let me finish," He muttered, eyes never leaving the hunters face, "You want to find someone whose hands been forced and is trying to repent for the things they've done, for the things they do want to do." He stood up, slowly stepping around the table, "You want to find someone whose been hurt as badly as you're hurting."

Bobby gave him a near bewildered looked, "How would you know any of that?" What kind of fucked up game was he going at?

"Because I've seen that look before," The tailor said slowly, "I see it every single time I look in the mirror."

Bobby looked up at the tailor, and felt his heart flutter, a heat rising up his neck at the sheer closeness of the man. Fergus leaned forward, bending downward a bit. "It seems to me, darling, that we didn't meet tonight by chance."

Bobby felt the heat on his face, and looked up at the man in front of him. He felt like he'd know him his whole life, instead of merely hours. The witch was forgotten, the hunting, and even his tea, when the sly, pudgy faced tailor he met at the pub pressed his lips against his own.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Home you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_

_This one was a bit lengthy- and a bit hard to work around, but I hope I did good by your standards. Thank you for reading!_


	6. College Years, Part 1

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Could you do a Crobby highschool/college AU (PS I LOVE YOU)  
_

* * *

Footsteps padded almost silently among those around him, clicking every now and again before they turned the corner. First day of college, and Bobby already felt his head spinning.

His mother had been so excited when she found out that he had been accepted into Morningside in Sioux City Iowa, and loved that he was going to be so close to home as well.

Bobby had been hoping to get into Ohio State, but he never got the message back from them, which was a bit strange, but he suspected his mother had something to do with that.

He sidestepped away from a couple before finally making it to his final classroom, which was located across the school from his previous class in AP Biochemistry. The young man stepped into, what he believed to be, his Biblical Studies class, noting that most of the seats were still fairly empty, say for a few girls huddled in the back. Bobbys eyes glanced at the clock back at the door, he was still a few good minutes early.

The man shifted his things in his arms before going to sit near the middle where there was a lack of people nearby. He told himself not to get too friendly with the other students, they'll be distractions throughout the year and he didn't need that.

Loud laughing caught his attention as he set his bookbag against his seat, he looked up to see two boys stepping into the class. One of them was a bit taller than the other, brownish gold hair and a sucker between his lips, sporting a green jacket and a corky smile.

The guy he was with was a tad shorter, a bit more tucked in and finely pressed, courting a smirk as the other spoke rapidly to him.

Bobby paid them no mind after the quick glance over and reached into bookbag, snagging one of his novels out from its constraints.

"-was a real hit," The taller boy exclaimed, "Should have seen that look on their faces, purely horrified when they found out."

"I would expect so." The voice made Bobbys ears unintentionally perk, the voice had a rich accent to it that the young hunter hadn't heard before. "I'm sure Lucifer is used to the attention he gets because of his name."

Bobby opened his book, not really checking the cover to indicate which one he had grabbed. There was a soft thud by his left, making his head shift that directed for a moment to see who it was.

It was the shorter boy, it seemed. Bobby went back to his book. "Couldn't you sit somewhere else?" He grunted, the person next to him shifted on his feet before taking his seat.

"Of course, but I won't." The boy responded, leaning back in his seat and the young hunter could feel eyes on him.

"Why aren't you with your friend?" He asked, flipping to the next page, pointedly not holding eye contact.

"Gabriel.. seems a bit busy, to hold up proper conversation with me." He noted, shifting so he could look back at his friend. The taller boy, Gabriel, it seemed, as Bobby followed the other's eyes, turning away from his book, was sitting by that group of girls in the back, chatting up a storm, all of them looking honestly interested, some tossing in a comment or two.

Bobby turned to face the boy next to him, and was surprised to see that he was already looking at him. The young hunter cleared his throat, "Well, why aren't you with him?"

"Because you're not over there."

The professors loud voice cut off any remark or retort that Bobby had, dying on his tongue at the shorter male smirked at him, before turning to face the professor.

Most of the class period was spent going over what was going to be taught throughout the year, as well as the professor introducing himself and explaining what it to be expected of the year. Simple stuff really, it was fairly basic for the most part.

Pages were passed out to each of the students, which basically asked for a bit of personal and social information. Seeing as this was more of a fill-in class, the professor wanted to get to know his students a bit better, and get a better understanding of what they already know, or what they've been told.

Bobby assumed that it was more about who he should work with and who he should avoid. Most were like that, and it didn't surprise him in the slightest when some of the questions involved whether or not he had submitted to drugs or alcohol before after basic information.

He rolled his eyes, but scribbled out his name, checking the gender box, scribbling in date of birth, then his age.

"Robert?" Came the voice beside him, and Bobby would swear to the day he died that he didn't flinched just a little.

He turned his head to look at the shorter male, whose eyes glanced at the page before looking back up at the young hunter.

"Yeah?" Bobby grunted, and the other only shook his head.

"Nothing," He said after a moment, "You look like a Robert," He tilted his head, and Bobby couldn't help but feel sort of _drawn in_ by the way he was doing it, "Let me guess, you prefer to go by-"

"Bobby." He nodded, "Always thought it suit me better."

"Not sure I agree," There was a noted pause where he breathed, and for some strange reason, Bobby thought of liquid heat, the way words just dripped from his mouth and danced like a flame. "You definitely seem more like a Robert than a Bobby."

"What about you?" Bobby heard himself saying. Alarms were going off in his head, telling him to just ignore him and finish filling out the page. He was a distraction, and would continue to be if he became any more friendly. However, Bobby ignored the warning signs, telling himself that he doesn't have to be completely cut off of social interaction while he's here.

The boy smirked at him, "Fergus," That makes an annoying amount of sense, "But most call me Crowley."

"Why's that?" The young hunter asked, twirling his pencil between his fingers leaning a bit back in his seat.

"Like you said, I believe that it suits me better." Crowley replied. The professors voice loud voice started up again, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

Throughout most of his lecture, the professor, whose name Bobby believed to be Mr. Morgan, was going step by step into the basics of religion, naming off most of them, and explaining which ones followed which bible, and which one they were going to be working on.

Bobby was trying to pay attention, he really was, but it was hard when you had sarcastic comments in your ear every other minute. Bobby had to bite his lip to hold back his snort of laughter. Instead he breathed out a little harder from his nose, in a silent chuckle.

The class ended far too soon, when the bell rang, Mr. Morgan cutting off, before stating that they were going to continue this next Wednesday.

Bobby moved his things off of his desk before stuffing it into his bookbag.

"Same time next week?" The words came out more of a joke, but in the same sense sounded more like an honest question. Bobby turned to him and nodded.

"Yeah," He muttered, tossing his bookbag on his back. He watched as Crowley shrugged his on his shoulder.

"Where are you from?" Bobby heard himself saying, getting a look from the other male.

"Why does it matter?" He teased, and Bobby felt a slight heat rising into his cheeks.

"No, 'course not." He mutter, walking towards the door, Crowley as a few steps behind his before making it to his side.

"Not sure I believe you Robert."

"Didn't say you had to," He grunted, in response.

"But do you want me to?" Crowley asked, causing the young hunter to stop in his tracks, turning to look at the other.

"What?" He asked, but Crowley just looked at him, before smirking at the young hunter.

"See you next Wednesday," He smiled before strutting off. Leaving the young hunter staring after him as he left.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_

_I'm going to do a part 2 to this little oneshot- because it deserves one, to actually hit the romance. So the next chapter will be the second part.  
_


	7. College Years, Part 2 End

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Could you do a Crobby highschool/college AU (PS I LOVE YOU)_

* * *

Wednesday came and went week after week, and somehow Bobby ended up with a puppy of a man following him around everywhere. At first it was barely noticeable, Crowley would talk for most of the time while they were in class, and sometimes he would follow Bobby to the door before parting his ways; However, soon he was attached to the young hunter like a leech, rarely leaving his side outside of classes. And no matter how much the hunter threatens him or tries to convince him to leave, Crowley either doesn't get the message, or could care less, because he's always there.

At first, Bobby minded, quite a lot actually. Crowley was a distraction, a funny one, but a distraction none the less. Bobby was behind on a few assessments in Biblical Studies, and even a few other classes because of him, and no matter how hard he tried, Crowley refused to step down, or at least step away. And, at one point, some magical unbelievable, hell- even incomprehensible thing happened that Bobby hadn't expected to.

He grew fond of the bastard.

He noticed how he would start to unconsciously look for that fine pressed jacket, and dark tuff of hair over a crowd when Crowley wasn't (For some ungodly reason) by his side. Or that it actually began to feel strange that the shorter guy wasn't next to him 24/7. He'd start getting a bit nervous when he'd head down to his Biblical Studies class every Wednesday, and grow fond of the conversations, no matter how insignificant they were, and look forward to having them.

One day, Bobby was going through his phone, looking for the dates he had typed in in order to remind himself when the Holiday exam was, and when to study, when he came across Crowley's name in his contacts. It wasn't hard to find, seeing as the young hunter only gave his number out to a scares few, which was really only his mother, his best friend John and Rufus, and recently the girl John was dating, Mary. He can't even remember how that number got there, or when Crowley had a chance to steal his phone, but he didn't hesitate to send the text.

It slowly became routine as the year went on, never leaving each others side, and when they were apart, they'd text away, laughing and shooting the breeze. Sometimes Gabriel would tag along, and neither would mind, he was a fairly lively character and it was nice to have a new voice in the group. And they got along quite well.

The young hunter learned very quickly, however, that Crowley had a temper. Usually the guy had control over his emotions, but certain things, even small nearly insignificant things, set him off. And Bobby would be the first to say that the innocent looking man, who could easily be mistaken for a puppy, could be terrifying. Crowley had only ever once yelled at Bobby, and regretted it instantly afterwards; it came as a bit of a surprise when he snapped at the hunter for something small, like ignoring him (He was trying to study, he really had to pass AP Calculus) and the little outburst left them both in stunned silence. Bobby forgave him, naturally, but Crowley couldn't get over it, and ended up trying to make up for it by sneaking in Craig for them to share. It was nice, actually.

Other than that, the two stayed to themselves, laughed and studied together, worked on projects even if it wasn't for their class to help the other, or sometimes just read in the other persons company in companionable silence.

A few rumors of the two spread, but were never validated. Bobby had quickly heard about the little rumor about Crowley being the 'go-to' person if you wanted something done. Well, Bobby could in fact prove that, so it wasn't really a rumor, but there were still few who knew about that. They called him the King of the Crossroads, referring to Biblical mythology with Crossroad demons and what have you. It was amusing actually, and Crowley really liked the ring to it. Some, who were unlucky enough to witness the smaller mans wrath, called him the King of Hell- He responded to both with ease.

Bobby didn't exactly have a title, other than 'the hunter' and he didn't really mind, he liked keeping his head low and his nose clean, he'd honestly rather not have some reputation that'll later bite him in the ass.

Some people called him, however, the 'queen of hell' which always had Crowley in a fit of laughter, but he'd promptly stop when the hunter would snap at him. They never really talked about the rumors that suggested any romantic relationship between them, like it was a silent understanding not to, and they both just didn't bring it up.

One day, after the Winter exams were finished, and there were no classes for a few weeks, the two were just sitting around in Bobbys dorm, his flatmate having gone home for the holidays, as most have, with only a scares few as himself that stayed behind. They were sitting on the young hunters bed, talking about this and that, laying next to each other and staring at the celling.

One moment they were talking about what kind of fun that fish could possibly have, and the next moment a pair of timid lips pressed against the side of the hunters face.

The action was so sudden and unexpected Bobby stiffened under the touch, the soft pair of lips separated from his slightly scruffy cheek, both of them still and silent, waiting. Crowley was the first to react, getting to stand, eyes averted from the young hunter before two strong arms sprung out and grabbed the smaller man by the waist. He forced Crowley to look at him, his cheeks a bright red as he attempted to avert his eyes away from the taller man. Bobby cradled the mans head between his palms, forcing the other to look at him before capturing his lips.

It was slow, timid, unsure and scared. Crowley carefully wrapped his arms up and around the taller mans neck, turning his head slightly before firmly pressing their lips properly together. Bobbys arms snapped downward and wrapped around the shorter mans lower back, squeezing him closer. Crowley bit his lower lip, nipping the others a bit too rough before parting for air.

The two stared at each other, Bobby gazed at the shorter man with heavy eyes, looking down at the shorter man. His hair was a bit disheveled, lips kiss swollen with a light red tint around the cheeks. His eyes were blown up, looking up at the hunter with something akin to worship, arms clutching tightly around his neck before pushing up on his toes and swiftly capturing his lips once again.

This, wonderfully, became routine as well. And soon enough, it became public. Crowley wasn't afraid to grope the hunters jacksy when others were eyeing them down, or entertwine his fingers with the taller mans. He was proving claim, showing him off almost, letting everyone know to back off.

The year was ending, the semester was coming to a close and the exams were coming full course once again. Bobbys report was still lying open on his desktop off on the desk in the corner of the room, his flatmate out and maybe getting laid, perhaps he's out partying, or he could even be studying somewhere with friends. Bobby couldn't care less as the legs around his bare waist tightened, the blunt nails digging into his shoulder blades; his name moaned out repeatedly as the man withered and rutted underneath him.

He looked so beautiful, his lips parting in a silent moan beneath him and Bobby had no goddamn clue how he became so lucky as his hips quickened their pace.

It was that same night, when the shorter of the two, latched and resting against the hunters chest, panting as he slowly came back to reality, had said those three little words. And Bobby, content and tired, wrapped his arms a bit tighter around the mans smaller frame, pressing a firm kiss to the mans temple.

It took years after that night for Bobby to repeat those words back to the man, when they moved into the home he had grown up in. He was standing in the kitchen, a glass of Craig in his hands with a book tucked under his arm. He was wearing a black turtle neck, dark jeans, and looked so calm and content- Bobby had been resting in the doorway, watching him when the words slipped out of his lips.

Crowley had been so surprised he didn't know what to say, and continued to be speechless when the man he gave up everything for dropped to one knee.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_


	8. Hunger Games

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Crobby Hunger Games AU where Crowley is the mentor of District 3 and Bobby is the mentor for District 7?_

* * *

Bobby despised the Hunger Games. He found it inhumane, barbaric, and downright humiliating in some cases- These kids were dying left and right, and he couldn't help but feel awful watching as another one was attacked and killed.

His tributes, however, were still alive.

Sam, was his first to be picked, from District 7.

District 7, as most knew, or what it was remembered by, was for it's lumber to the Capital. Hell, little girls knew how to throw an axe at the age of 3- Jo, his other tribute, was one of the best tossers he knew.

He watched the screen as a small child from District 6, that had no business fighting, climb up a tree, trying to escape from his oncoming pursuers, and it was downright heart breaking to watch.

Sam was surviving, it seemed, him and Jo looked like they were doing just fine, hiding out in the woods for the most part, and trying to scourge some food, and perhaps a safe place to sleep.

Bobby was able to gather enough sponsors to send down some water for the two of them. The stream was too dangerous to head down to with all the action taking place there, they made it clear to stay clear of that area. But Jo was looking terribly dehydrated, they both did.

There was some chatter from behind before footsteps made it his way, his ignored them as he stared up at the screen, hoping that they'd be okay.

"Hows the kids doing?" Came a familiar drawl from behind, Bobby looked over his shoulder to see the mentor of District 3 walking up to his side.

Crowley, a snotty bastard, but a good friend, stepped up, watching the screen with earnest. His tributes, Dean and Meg, were separated, and it didn't look like Meg was going to last very much longer.

Dean, however, was doing great, and even made an ally with one of the guys from district 5, a nice boy it seemed, that went by the name Castiel.

District 3 was one of the more high tech districts, that did a lot with engineering and Technical support. A four year old in that district could hack into any mainframe you gave them, if given enough time, they were very clever, and were very quick learners.

"Okay," Bobby grunted eventually, "They're surviving," He turned to look at the fine pressed man, "Yours?"

Crowley made a slight shrug, "Could be better, Meg won't last long. Last I checked Ruby and Lucifer were on her tail- Dean and Castiel seem to be okay, but I fear that Gabriel may catch up to them soon." The man let out a weary sigh, to which Bobby patted his arm, in a calming reassuring mannor.

"They're survivors." Bobby muttered, before dropping his arm, "You trained them the best you could."

Crowley scoffed, "If only I tried harder."

"Dean's a natural at combat, and Meg is hard headed, one of the two'll surely come out in the end."

"Dean'll come out, alright." Crowley muttered, before a chuckle passed his lips, making it hard for Bobby to keep a straight face. They both smiled distantly, kind heartedly, watching as the battles began to die down. Some districts were already wiped out, and there were so scarces still breathing.

Bobby must have seemed tense, because there were lips pressed against his temple a moment later. Bobby looked over at the other man who was eyeing him down, as if he were something fragile.

"Come on, you need to sleep." Crowley eventually said, grabbing the other mentors arm, but Bobby refused.

"I need to make sure they'll be okay, ya idjit." Bobby muttered, but the hand was insistent.

"Robert," Crowley urged, nearly demanded on the word itself, "I'll wake you when some sort of progress has been made, but your kids'll be fine, by the looks of it." Bobby gave the man an unsure look, but Crowley merely smiled.

"It'll be okay."

_"Trust me, everything is going to be okay." The voice echoed frantically in his ears, "Robert, stay with me now, everything is okay.. p-please don't move."_

_Everything hurt, his head felt bashed, and his ribcage felt cracked. The young hunter looked up to see a youthful pudgy face, fear stricken in his eyes. His friend- the boy who warned him about the berries._

_Why was he here? W-why was he helping? Bobby felt confused, but the pain in his chest made him forget._

_His.. his name- what was his name- It was Crow? Crowley, that was it. He- he was his ally, his friend. They've been friends since this silly thing started, hadn't they?_

_"Stay with me Robert, everything's going to be okay." His English drawl perked up his ears, and he felt safe, even if he was dying._

_They were ambushed, but somehow Crowley fought them off, he killed that bitch Lilith, hadn't he? He did. Crowley took her and a few others on, barely a scratch on the bastard._

_They were doing find until- something, went wrong. He wasn't sure what it was but now everything hurt._

_"They'll get a sponsor," Crowley.. sobbed? Was he crying? "They'll get something for you, a first aid kid, medicine, something.. please hurry."_

_Bobby hadn't noticed his head being lifted before he felt his upper half of his body being cradled by strong arms. He felt a pair of warm lips press against his own before passing out from lack of blood._

_He woke up, battered and bruised, but bandaged and alive. Crowley was holding him, both of them lying in some cave while the other stroked his hair. He felt cold, unbelievably so, but the other boy had enough warmth to spare, he moved into it, carefully, burying his face into the others heat._

_"Crowley-?" He mumbled weakly._

_"I'm here, love." Came the reply, "I'll always be right here."_

_"I'm alive." Bobby muttered, surprised, and received and chuckle in response._

_"I told you everything was going to be okay."_

Bobby looked at the mentor, who was smiling at him, the same man who saved his life all those years ago, and the two of them won the Hunger Games together. The rest was history.

Bobby sighed, glancing at the screen one last time before turning back to the other mentor and nodding. "Okay."

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_


	9. Camp Half-Blood

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Camp Half-Blood Crobby AU where Crowley is a minor god and Bobby is an activities director._

* * *

"Alright everybody, 'nough training for today, head back to your cabins!" Mr. Singer shouted, waving the rowdy demigods towards the main trail to the camp, he pulled out his clip board, scribbling down a few notes before cutting around time frames, "You guys looks like you went a few rounds with a hydra." He mumbled the last part more to himself, but that didn't mean that the others didn't catch wind of it.

A few demigods chuckled to themselves, and ended up waving their goodbyes to a few of their friends before heading off. A few stayed behind to finish some of there combat training, and others were catching their breath. It was no matter, as long as they made it back to the camp in one piece.

The magical boarder would hold, Robert had no doubt about that; but after that last run in with the bull, he'd rather not take his chances, waiting patiently as the few stragglers finished up and began running off to find their friends.

The field looked clear, as far as he could tell, before he began his stroll back to the main section of the camp. He had a few things he had to look into, before he went to seeing about the new recruits coming in for some open positions in staff, one of them being a Centaur. A few demigods would be joining them soon, which isn't something that's usually scheduled, (The idjits just drop in whenever, at least that's what it feels like.) So at least he was a bit prepared with prepping the rooms.

Robert checked his clip board again, before sighing, he had a bit he had to do; checking the time, he realized he might not even get dinner at this rate.

Walking by the crowd of adolescents, he was able to make it to his office like space without much difficulty, slipping inside the open doorway before heading to his works space.

His desk was covered with old mythological testaments, and Greek god, to Roman god mythology. Papers scattered his desk, setting his clipboard off to the side, he made quick work of removing most of it, patting them down into neat piles before filing them away. He'd deal with organizing later.

Robert had finally sat down when he heard a quaint knock near the cabins doorway.

"Knock knock," came the familiar English drawl, and Robert wasn't sure if he could roll his eyes any harder than he did in that moment.

Crowley, Demigod son of Hyde's, youngest of two older brothers; Bianca di Angelo, and Nico di Angelo, stepped into the mans 'office space' casually, hands tucked Into his black trench pockets. "Hello, Robert."

Crowley was the only demigod not to call him by Mr. Singer- Nobody called him Robert; but he'd long ago given up on trying to make him stop. Never worked, and when it did, it never stuck.

"Yeah? What do ya' want?" Direct, always be direct with him, otherwise you'd be stuck and sucked into a line of pleasantries that ended in flirting on the others half- Roberts been down that lane too many damn times not to be careful.

"What? Can't stop by to see my favorite raggedy man?" Crowley teased, stepping further into the room, "I'm wounded."

Robert huffed softly to himself. Maybe if he said nothing, he'd go away.

If only it was that easy.

"So tell me, darling." He began, taking a seat on the edge of the mans desk, pushing aside some books to make room. "You busy tonight?"

"Very much so, actually." Robert answered, skimming flipping through a few pages on his clip board. "So if you don't mind, I'd like to get started."

"Oh, but that's no fun." And here he was, actually hoping that he would get out of this easily. Robert frowned, but didn't give the demigod the pleasure of eye contact, to he continued to idly scan the pages.

"You know what you should do?" Now that was really close to his ear, Robert nearly jumped when he felt the air brush by his cheek. The words were purred out slowly, seductively, moreover suggestively. The man steered himself, glancing at the demigod and flashing an unamused glare.

Crowley didn't even flinch. If anything, his grin grew wider.

"You've been working so hard," He began, and it took a moment for the man to realize that the demigod had somehow maneuvered himself on his side of the desk without him noticing. "And I just want to cut out that.. tension, you've been carrying."

Robert flinched slightly at the words, but nothing he thought the other would notice. However, the little jerk of muscle was exactly what demigod was looking for. Crowley smirked.

"Just one more time-" The demigod chuckled in his ear, keeping his voice low, "We both need a bit of a breather."

A warm hand made contact with the mans inner thigh, tensing at the sudden pressure, but eventually relaxing into the touch. The man looked up at the demigod, whom, in retrospect, had this victorious look sprawled across his face.

His and Crowley's relationship was a… difficult one. But it worked out in the end, he supposed. He's been able to avoid his advances before, and he's fallen down that lane too many times to count, but sometimes, when work got stressful, or his worries got a bit over head- Crowley was always, for whatever reason the bastard had, by his side.

Robert wouldn't understand why he nodded, and let the demigod press his lips against his own; he didn't know why he let him have his jolly way with him, and _really _didn't know why they did so in his office (He had no damn door, he's surprised nobody's walked in on them- hell, he's surprised nobody's heard them. Crowley's a bit of a vocalist if you really try.)

But he did give in, and he'd continue to give in until they're eventually caught, and even then, maybe, he'll still let go.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_


	10. He's a real snarky bastard

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Have you seen Vicious? It's a sitcom starring Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi as Freddie and Stuart, an old gay couple that have been together for 49 years. They love each other, but they show it with insults and snarky comments. Do think you could do a Crobby fic based off that?_

* * *

"Stop worrying," Crowley muttered, snatching the leash from the coat rack, patting his legs softly to get Rumsfeld's attention. "You'll get wrinkles."

The Rottweiler came trotting in, happily wagging its tail as it sat in front of its owner. Bobby scoffed at the man, rolling his eyes as he grabbed another book off the shelf, "You ain't no prize either, princess."

"At least I don't look my age." Crowley retorted, clipping the leash securely around the dogs collar before standing to his full height.

"The hell you don't," Bobby grumbled, "You look older than me."

"Age always makes things finer."

"Real cute, that only works with wine, ya idjit." Crowley merely frowned in his direction, snatching his black trench coat off of the rack.

"You coming along?"

Bobby gave him an incredulous look. "Do I ever?"

Crowley tilted his head slightly to the side, a sarcastic smirk on his lips. "I was only concerned about the planet you're sporting on your gut."

"Look who's talkin',"

"Mhm, however mines more like the candy bar I should have laid off, rather than '_I found a liquor store, and I drank it.'." _He lowered his voice to mimicked Bobbys, which only got a paperback thrown at the back of his head.

"Shut up," The man growled, walking into the kitchen. "I'll start dinner, hurry up with Rumsfeld," Bobby told the other, "I'm thinking Pasta."

There was an empathetic look scrawled over the other mans face as he strolled into the kitchen and pecked the taller man on the check. "Don't burn down the kitchen."

Bobby smirked, "Don't worry, I'll use your books to put it out."

"You prat," Crowley called over his shoulder as he moved to let the dog outside, being pulled along with it.

The hunter grabbed out the ingredients to start making dinner, the noodles and the sauce were pulled out, along with a pot, quickly filling it with water.

He had officially started boiling the noodles by the time his partner came waltzing back in, releasing Rumsfeld, who ran up to Bobby wagging his tail before moving to lay beside the stove. Looking up expectantly at the hunter.

"What kind of pasta are we having?" Crowley asked, shrugging his heavier jacket off of his shoulders, white flakes of snow still attached to his dark hair, slowly melting in the sudden warm temperature.

"Red."

Crowley tsked, moving to lean against the counter by the stove, giving the hunter a disapproving eye. "White's better."

"White pasta is nothing compared to Red."

"Red is too messy," Crowley retorted, "Much like you."

"I'm sorry your majesty," Bobby grunted, stirring the noodles at a steady pace, "But I don't think we have any of your fancy sauce."

"Plebian." Crowley coughed, receiving a half-hearted punch in the shoulder.

"Well you're stuck with the 'plebian'," The hunter mumbled, "ya damn idjit."

"Sadly." They both smiled at this, and Crowley went to set the table for the two of them. Bobby ended up grabbing a pan, (After arguing with Crowley whether or not they were adding meat) before finally heating up the sauce. Because honestly, what's Spaghetti with out meatballs?

Sad noodles, goddamn it. That's what they are.

Some people wondered why he tolerated Crowley, and he's pretty sure some people ask Crowley the same question. They bicker, and fight, and Crowley's a damn snarky bastard, but he's his snarky bastard, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Most say fighting as much as they do is unhealthy, but it's like a routine with them. There's never really any venom behind their words; They've lived together for years, almost countless it seems, and it just fits. They just fit. If they meant half of what they said, they would have went there separate ways years ago.

Well- they kinda do mean what they say, but it's never negatively.

Bobby heard the plates and silverware clatter softly behind him, turning a bit to watch as the man set up in the same way he had been since they've moved in together.

The noodles have softened, and soon they were drained before mixed together with the sauce, bringing the pot to the table, placing down a slight mat before setting down the food.

"Make any garlic bread?" Crowley asked, taking a seat. Bobby shook his head. The man tsked, "Of course not."

"Make your own damn bread."

"Only if you'll butter it." Bobby paused, before pushing to stand, giving his partner an amused look.

"You and your damn double meanings."

"You'll survive, darling." Crowley smirked, pushing to stand as well. They both made to grab the garlic bread, Crowley starting the oven up while Bobby set to work on setting up the bread. The dials clicked under the shorter mans fingers, glancing over at the hunter for a moment.

The prat was having a bit of difficulty, and the shorter man couldn't help but let out a soft snort. Bobby Singer isn't the type of man he imagined himself with when he was in grade school, but something about the burly man caught his attention.

And to be downright honest he loved it here, even if Bobby was a bit of a tosser when they'd be shooting the breeze (Literally as was as figuratively). He'd never been happier.

Bobby grabbed a pan, roughly placing it down to start setting out the garlic bread.

He was distracted in doing so, he was caught off guard when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle, the shorter man leaning up to press a kiss behind his ear.

Bobby sighed out, "One of these days you're gonna give me a damn heart attack."

The arms tightened momentarily before being released, "Promises, promises."

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP_


	11. Revolutionary

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: *whispers* American Revolution Crobby AU?_

* * *

"Bloody hell, Robert." The Englishmen hissed, tying the torn rag of clothing tighter around the wound, "I told you to keep pressure on it."

"I'll be fine," Bobby responded, watching as the other mans hands worked on wrapping some extra hand-made bandages around the injury, "Just a scratch, I'll make it."

"With your carelessness, I hate to say that I doubt that."

"He was gonna kill John-"

"And just look how _thankful _he is." Crowley snapped sarcastically, moving his hands just a tad bit more roughly than before. "The bloke couldn't care less who saved him, as long as he's still bloody alive." He finished the wrapping with a rough tug, "There."

Bobby fingered the bandaging a moment before nodding his thanks to the Englishmen.

The battle of Bunker Hill, as some of the Patriots were calling it, hadn't ended well. It was estimated to have had 500 casualties, and was taken over by British rule. Not many escaped with their lives, but Crowley and Bobby were the lucky ones. They lost their general in the blood spread, ricochet bullets and the like- They were walking, what was left of them after a spring attack a few miles back, to find another group of soldiers and perhaps finally treat the wounded.

John Winchester, a bit of a bull headed soldier, was carrying a wounded boy, maybe 16 at the most, on his side. The young man was limping, and eventually was put to sit somewhere so they could catch their breath. Nobody was excited on taking a seat- everyone was anxious, and hearing shots off in the distance.

They've been walking for hours, since the break of dawn, and now it was hitting dusk- everyone needed a break. They were able to find a good place deep in the woods where war hadn't touched a single leaf, it was a decent area in order to hide away from Loyalist eyes.

Crowley leaned against the thick trunk of one of the trees, falling to sit against it. Bobby ended up joining him on the ground and they shared some water together; Bobby took back his canteen when Crowley offered it back, before the Englishmen snatched out some stale bread they could split.

It was getting darker out, and the soldiers had a small fire going. Some where already out, sleeping in a pile of leaves and a rolled up jacket for a pillow, dirt smeared over everyone's faces and hands, a few blood stains here and there, clinging to their clothing.

"You know," Bobby began idly, watching as the fire crackled, glowing against all of the men's faces, dancing in shadows. "I didn't think I'd ever die like this."

Crowley made a slight humming noise, pressed against his side. "Who said you were going to die?" His voice was low, and sounded like cigarettes and coffee, the crisp night air brushing against their faces.

"No one, I just- thought about it, I guess." Bobby said slowly, "There isn't much else, now is there? The British are gonna takes all of us out, theirs more of them than there are us."

Crowley was quiet a moment, "Well, I suppose you have a point, you morbid bastard." They both chuckled, "But that doesn't mean you're going to die. We'll win this war, just you wait."

Bobby looks over at his friend, whose eyes are watching the fire. He admired how the shadows danced over his friends scruffy, somewhat pudgy face, leaving a golden reflection in the mans eyes. "You have a bit of confidence." The man muttered, and watched as the Englishmen's face broke into a smile, the motion terribly endearing.

"Well, I don't give up too easy," Crowley turned to face the burly man, "And neither should you."

Bobby scoffed, "That's easy for you to say."

"No," Crowley have the man a half-smile, leaning his head against the bark of the tree, "It's not easy." He adjusted the way he was sitting before looking back at the fire. "It's hard to say everything is going to be okay, when you know it's not."

Bobby nodded mutely, but never averted his eyes away from the other man. He looked..-sad, almost.

Crowley let out a sad laugh, "It's funny, almost. Remembering that just a day ago we were drinking and eating, and even laughing with those men, who are nothing but soot under our heels now."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

"Crowley," Bobby put a hand on his friends arm, causing the other man to look up at him. "They're only like that if you forget what they stand for."

Crowley attempted to look away, but Bobby wasn't finished, grabbing the mans face and pulling it toward his to face him. "Hey, listen to me." He gave the man a stern look. "They didn't die for nothin'."

Bobby was waiting for Crowley to pushed him off of him, but he never did. Instead, he gave the burly man a small smile, something that looked far too innocent to be on a man his age, or on anyone whose seen what he has.

"You're a real philosopher, Robert." Crowley chuckled evenly, "You should write."

Bobby let go of his face, smiling back. "I don't know about that-"

"No really, I'd love to read a book by you. I can even imagine the title- '_The idjit diaries'." _They both croaked out laughing. "I can't imagine what kind of Sherlock Holmes nonsense you'd put out there."

"I wouldn't even know how to begin." Bobby smiled, fixing himself, before leaning a bit closer to the other man.

"You know, that's what we'll do," Crowley said after a moment.

"What do ya' mean?" Bobby asked, giving the man a curious look. Crowley shrugged it off.

"We'll write a book!"

"Are you serious?" Bobby questioned, his curious look deepening to disbelief. Crowley nodded happily.

"Indeed! After this silly war is over, we can write all about it, publish about the hard ships we went through and what have you. Oh, that would be brilliant." Crowley chuckled, "What do you say Robert? Would you be willing to bunk with me a bit longer to write a book?"

The idea sticking by the Englishmen's side, even after the war was over, was odd pleasing. Bobby nodded, "I don't see why not." Crowley looked pleased, leaning his head against the mans shoulder. It was always like this- every soldier had another to lean his head against. It was a kind of silent support system they created. Nobody seemed to mind, so nobody mentioned it.

"But we're not namin' it _'The idjit diaries'_."

"You're a real spoil-sport, you know that?"

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP Reviews are appreciated!_


	12. Don't Go

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Bobby's drunk and confesses something when Crowley comes over to visit._

* * *

Call after call, seemingly minutes apart, keep coming in at a steady rate, nearly in perfect sync like a metronome. A hunter is caught up in a Wendigo cave, more that one; needs help. A nest of vamps down south, only two hunters; quick and easy kill. Vengeful spirits, and some old Norse god loor and the hunter is already on his fifth beer.

The day passed so slowly, seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days; he felt endless. There were more calls today than he's had in quite a while, and he's actually struggling to keep his notes straight. After his last call, he gave Garth the proper set up on how to take down a few good vamps without being caught (Depending on who was operating the group.) before setting the phone down.

Bobby set the book he was reading away, grabbing the bundle of notes that were spewn across his desk, and eventually gave up on trying to make it look neat.

Sighing to himself, he pushed himself onto his feet, heading over to the kitchen where some of his better whiskey was stored. He noticed the bottle of Craig sitting in there as well, but didn't comment about it. It wasn't uncommon that Crowley would put his drinks here, seeing as they're always have a glass or two. _'bastard probably got tired of snappin' it up_.' Bobby thought to himself, grabbing out a clean drinking glass.

Setting back in his seat, he poured himself a glass, downing it in a few gulps.

Deals were being made at a decent rate this week, a few Crossroads were getting frequent hits and it was definitely something else. Deals were being made, and souls were being damned; it's been a good week. He didn't even have to deal with rebellious demons- Nobody dared speak out to him now.

Everything was going smoothly, and he hadn't been needed for a few good hours now. The demon king checked the time- it should be dark on the surface, but it wasn't too late. He made a split second decision, and snapped up, the gesture becoming easier and easier the more he did so, landing right in the kitchen of a Mr. Bobby Singer.

Crowley took a moment to find his setting, before turning to look into the mans library, where an over inebriated hunter was sitting. Eyes looked glassy, and face flushed from all the way across the room. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets, getting a good view of the hunter, whom, in retrospect, was laid back against his seat behind his desk, twirling a glass of his swill between his fingers.

Crowley merely stepped forward, careful to avoid the devil trap on his way. "Hello, darling." He greeting, and was met with two eyes on his face.

Bobby grunted in his direction, before taking another sip of his drink. before taking another sip of his drink. "What the hell do fish do for fun?" The hunter slurred, setting the cup on the top of the desk. "Do they make b-bubbles, er.. float 'round er somethin'?"

Crowley quirked a brow at the hunter, stepping closer. "How much did you have to drink, Robert?" The demon questioned, stepping a bit forward and reached to grab the near empty bottle of whiskey on the table, turning it slightly to get a good view of what was left inside.

"Not much-" The hunter cleared his throat, the demon giving him a curious disbelieving eye. "Ju-justa couple'a d-drinks."

"I'm so certain." Crowley frowned, before setting the bottle upright once again. "Come on, love. Lets get you to bed." The demon muttered, moving around the table to grab the hunter, hoisting him to his feet- The hunter swayed, but Crowley was able to keep the mans footing.

Bobby was rigid at first before melting a bit in posture, leaning into the demons hold. Crowley mumbled a bit, before snapping them up to the hunters bed room, careful to ignore the devils trap at the foot of the bed.

"Time for bed." He pushed the man onto his back, but, to his surprise, two strong arms snapped out and grabbed him, pulling him down onto the mattress with him. Crowley yelped in surprise when he made contact with the sheets.

The demon huffed, before attempted to squirm free. "Release me, Robert."

"No," The inebriated hunter grunted, arms tightening around the demons waist. Crowley let out an undignified squeak when he felt the pressure. "Erry.-" Bobby cleared his throat, as to try from having his words slur too much. "Everytime, y-you leave, you n-ever come back."

"What are you talking about?" Crowley questioned, trying to look the hunter in the eye, but given his position, it was awkward at best. "I always come back."

Bobby shook his head, and the only way Crowley could really tell was by how the bed shook slightly at the action, feeling the muscles tense around him when it happened. "Nah, you're here.. but you're not- _here." _

"Robert..-"

"You smell like butterscotch." The comment cut off anything the demon was going to say, "You always smell good," Bobby mumbled, burying his face in the crook of the demons neck. Crowley's back was pressed against the hunters front, and he could feel the pressure added, tensing up slightly.

"You're drunk, darling." Crowley said after a moment, "Let me help you get to bed, alright? You're going to hate yourself in the morning."

"And you're not?"

Crowley tried to look at him, but the position prevented him from doing so. He couldn't respond to that question, there wasn't really anything he could say that wouldn't put him in a position. "No," He muttered carefully, experimentally almost, to see what reaction that would gain him.

The arms around him loosened, and Crowley was able to get out of the mans grasp. He turned to face the drunken man, before puffing out a small sigh. "Oh Robert." He hummed.

Crowley walked over to the mans drawers and pulled out some clothing, going back over to the inebriated man, setting the cloths down and making quick work of pulling off the mans shoes, tossing them to the side before tugging at the band of the mans jeans, undoing them before tugging the jeans off of his hips.

Crowley managed to maneuver an dress the man, before pushing him under the covers. He was certain he was out like a light when he covered the man in his blankets, humming to himself softly before turning to leave.

A hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist, causing the demon to jump slightly before turning to look at the offending appendage. Bobby was looking at him from under the covers, with this lopsided look on his face.

"Where are .. where are you goin'?" He muttered drowsily, and Crowley wasn't entirely sure how to answer.

"I'm heading back to Hell," He responded after a moment, "You know how it is, raising hell and condemning souls." The comment would have came out as sarcastic if he didn't feel like a deer in headlights.

"Don't go." Crowley felt his pulse quicken exceptionally, looking down at the man, who still hadn't eased up on his wrist. "Please..-don't go."

Crowley thought about all those times he'd left Robert to his own devices, barely a friendly hello, and a normally violent goodbye. All those times he'd stop in unexpectedly, and drop out just the same. It's how it always was with them, it's just how it was.

Bobby took his silence as a bad thing, frowning slightly at the demon standing before him. The hunter saw as the moon light creeping through his window reflected off of the demons pale skin like snow, his eyes looking dark and haunted, his grip tightened. "I.. I- need you."

The demon stared at the hunter for a long moment, feeling a heat rise from his neck and settle on his cheeks, and can't remember the last time anyone had ever said that to him. Crowley reached out a hand and took the hunters off of his arm, collapsing it in his own. Bobby wouldn't remember any of this, come tomorrow. He saw no harm in what he did next.

The demon leaned in, planting a soft kiss against the other mans lips, careful and timid, tender and quick. He moved his head away from the hunters an inch, giving the man a sad smile. He mumbled lowly, voice soft but sounding like coffee and cigarettes, tired and sweet. "I need you, too." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP Reviews are appreciated!_


	13. Dance with the Devil

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: Bobby and Crowley listen to music and end up dancing together~_

* * *

"You have no taste in music." Came a disgruntled, nearly bored comment from across the room. Bobby looked up briefly to see the demon going through his old CD's before looking back down at his encyclopedia.

"I didn't ask you to listen to it." He grunted, flipping the old page, the paper rusting under his fingertips.

Crowley made a low noise, and Bobby couldn't tell for sure if he said something or not, but decided against asking. "It just seems terribly quiet in here."

"I like it this way." Bobby muttered, scanning the page carefully. "No distractions."

"What's the fun in that?" Crowley replied, pulling a CD from it's place, giving it a once-over.

"None, that's the point." The hunter muttered, taking a drink of his beer, skipping a few paragraphs before flipping a few pages. He paid no mind to the demon as he crossed the room, his footsteps thudding softly against the floorboards.

Bobby glanced up, however, when he heard a soft click. Turning his head upward, watching in confusion as the demon placed an old CD in his old stereo. Huh, he'd forgotten that was there.

It must have shown, because Crowley was wiping off dust with his other hand, taking off a few books and setting them aside. He would have given the hunter an amused look, but he didn't think that Bobby was looking at him. He placed the CD inside, pressing play when it closed.

They could hear the disk spinning, making a soft skidding noise as it did so before they heard the first soft noise, that slow cord before the song officially begins playing.

Eerie slow music filled the once quiet room, a slight skip in its near melancholy beat. Crowley turned to look at the hunter, somewhat surprised to already see the mans eyes on him. "What song is this?" He asks after a moment, turning to look at the stereo, "I'm unfamiliar with the tune."

"Not sure," Bobby said after a moment, setting his book down. "I have a bunch of old music just layin' around. Some were given to me, others were found and the like." He waved his hand idly, grabbing his book once again. The soft music played for a few moments more before finally picking up a beat, then quietly, a woman's voice started to sing.

She sounded sad, is terribly familiar. Bobby tried paying attention to his book, but found it was hard when someone was singing. He almost tossed his book down in frustration, but when he glanced up, he stopped.

Crowleys hips were slightly swaying to the music, seeming to concentrate on the tune. The sight made the hunter pause, eyes lingering a moment too long on the demons hips, before setting down the book properly on the desk top.

Crowley was oblivious to the eyes on him, figuring that Bobby had better things to do rather than watch him, so he felt no harm done in moving (just barely) to the beat. The song struck some cords, he just couldn't pin point the title, and it was setting him slightly on edge.

His hands were shoved in his pockets, and before he knew it, he felt warm arms wrap around his middle, hands grasping at his wrists and pulling them free from his trench coats restraints. The demon looked behind him to see Bobby grinning back at him.

Heat spread up the demons neck, resting on his face, recognizing that taunting glint in the hunters eyes. He tried to step away, but Bobby merely kept his arms wrapped around him, and only then did Crowley feel the hunter swaying along with him.

"I never took you as being the dancing type, love." Crowley mumbled. Bobby turned the demon so they were facing each other.

"I'm not." Was all he said in reply, and Crowley didn't complain when he felt the hunters strong hand place itself comfortably on his hip, the other hand dragging its way slowly over the demons arm before intertwining their fingers together. Crowley smiled this small smile before looking up at the hunter, who was grinning at him with his eyes. Crowley slowly slid his hand up the hunters chest before resting his hand on the mans shoulder. "Shall we?"

Bobby pulled them slightly away from the stereo, taking the lead. They stepped in sync, slowly, just watching each other, and sometimes looking around. Bobby, at some point, pulled their bodies closer, torso to torso. Crowley rested his head against the hunters chest, hearing the heartbeat, it's pause and reverberation.

Bobby rested his head against the top of the demons, their feet slow and in tune with the music. Crowleys hair smelled like smoke and fire, ashy almost, but felt terribly soft under his cheek. The song slowly came to an end, but they didn't stop moving, even as the next song came on. It was even slower than the first- if that was even possible. Instrument's giving out a darker more serene feeling, and Crowley couldn't have possibly ever felt more content than he did in that moment.

He watched as the room moved from where his head was laying, looking at the flannel shirt on his hunters chest, and smiled to himself. Nuzzling his face against the man, he let his eyes flutter shut, and let his hunter lead the way, sighing in content and breathing in the mans scent. This is what home felt like.

Crowley un-twined their hands, sliding his hand off of the hunters chest and settled on wrapping them around the mans middle. Bobby watched him with an amused glint, removing his hand from the demons hip and encircled the king of hell in his arms, pressing his face against the top of his head.

The song dragged on, and their feet didn't stop moving, slowly stepping in rhythm, carefully and controlled, and at some point started humming along to the song as it became repetitive.

It didn't matter, after a while, if the music had stopped playing or not, it was forgotten, the two dancing moved to the slight hum in the demons voice, it was soft and delicate, deep like purring, careful like their steps, and warm. Bobby pressed a soft kiss to the demons forehead as they turned, and everything was okay.

Bobby glanced at the books on his desk, before his eyes dropped once again to the demon in his arms. Sometimes, Bobby thought, tightening his grasp around his king of hell, distractions weren't all that bad.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP Reviews are appreciated!_


	14. Distressed

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: A crobby where Sam and Dean walk in on Bobby holding a distressed Crowley. Please?_

* * *

Bobby wasn't sure how this had happened, one moment he had a book and a drink in his hand, the next he had a lap full of demon.

His book fell from his hands and he was able to quickly maneuver his drink onto the desk as arms flung forward, grasping and wrapping around the hunters neck. Bobby was surprised, he hadn't expected to see Crowley until that weekend, but Bobby didn't complain as the demon buried his face in his neck, and he was shaking.

Shaking- Crowley was shaking.

Bobby tried to turn his head to look at his partner properly, but only felt the demon press his face harder against his neck, ducking his head further as his arms tightened around the hunter. Bobby almost fell into a state of complete shock when he heard a whimper escape the demons lips; it was a mixture between a gasp and a sob and it shattered the hunters heart. Bobby had no idea how to react, and did the only thing he could, he wrapped his arms around the demon, pressing him closer.

Crowley's shoulders shook, as some of his harder sobs wracked through his body, and Bobby wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do. He told himself to forget logic and act like a proper partner, holding onto the demon harder. Crowley came to him in such a vulnerable state, he trusted him enough to let him see him like this, and to comfort him, and it compelled the hunter to try harder.

Bobby ran a hand up the demons clothed back, running another hand through the demons hair in an attempt to sooth his lover, as he broke down in the hunters arms. Crowley maneuvered his legs, trying to wrap around and cling to the hunter as best as he could, given the hunters sitting position.

Bobby couldn't even begin to imagine what ungodly awful thing that must have happened in order to bring the _King _of _Hell _to his knees. Bobby could barely comprehend the idea that the king of all _demons _could become so distressed, or that the event was even possible- but here they were. The hunter tried to calm Crowley down but nothing he said seemed to work, if anything it made it worse and Crowley would tighten his grip.

Bobby hadn't had to comfort someone in years, and dammit all he was trying. He had no idea what was expected of him, and he hadn't been needed for this sort of thing since Karen. They were two different people, with two different personalities and aspirations. They needed two different things, and wanted two totally different lives, the only thing they had in common was Bobby. Bobby, pressed his face against the demons neck, mumbling sweet soothing nothings to him, trying to calm him down; Karen and Crowley were two people, but they both needed comfort, and they both went to Bobby for it.

That was until Karen died, and the comfort on Crowley's end had just become recent news. But, it didn't change the fact, that at one point or another, they had/have needed him. Now that Karen had passed, it was Crowley's turn and Bobby was so damn terrified that he was going to mess this up or even make it worse.

Bobby rubbed his back soothingly, pressing soft careful kisses against his lovers neck.

The sobs had calmed to weak, almost pitiful whimpers, and the shaking had become infrequent and far less in between.

"Hey.. hey, you okay?" Bobby muttered into his lovers neck, running his hands against the demons sides, pushing him forward so he can look him in the face. Crowley let himself be pushed back, his arms loosening around the hunters neck but not letting go. His head was ducked, his cheeks were flushed a light shade of red with his lower lip quivering slightly until he made a move to bit it. Crowley's hair was terribly disheveled, strands sticking out in all these different directions.

Bobbys eyes furrowed together, giving the demon a curious look. He used the back of his hand and his thumb to brush away the demons tears, before cupping the mans hands in his own. Crowley laughed pitifully, grabbing the hunters wrists.

"Pathetic," Crowley mumbled, "I know." He gave a sad smile, releasing his hold around the hunters neck and rubbing the wetness around his eyes away.

"What's gotten into you?" Bobby asked, feeling the demon grab his wrists, but made no attempt to pull them away. "What's wrong?"

"I apologies, I didn't realize he would have been so affected."

The voice startled both of the men, causing them both to jump. Crowley clung forward once again and buried his face back into the hunters neck, Bobby hands dropped to the demons hips, but made no movement to remove him. He turned to look at the person who spoke, getting an eyeful of 'tan trench coat' and two displeased set of eyes.

"What the hell?" Dean shouted, finally able to find his voice after so long of having lost it. Sam tried to make him stop, but his voice was drowned out by his brothers shouting. "When the fuck did you, I don't know, plan on _letting us know?" _Dean snarled, "For fuck sake Bobby! When did _this _happen!?"

"Dean." Sam scowled, glaring at his brother, "That's enough."

"That's not _nearly _enough, Sam!" Dean turned his glare from his brother back to Bobby, "He's the _King of Hell Bobby!_ This is Crowley we're- Bobby, what the_ hell _were you_ thinking?" _Dean was exasperated, "I didn't know that it was suddenly _okay _to be with a demon. Goddamn it Bobby, we already had lost Sam because of this before, we don't need to lose you too!"

"Hey!" Sam snapped at his brother, "Dean, really. Knock it off-"

"Sam-"

"Both of you, _Shut up_!" Bobby snapped, "What I do in my damn personal time is of no concern to you boys, ya' damn idjits." He glared at the boys, and Dean held his gaze. "We can talk lady bits later, but right now all I care about is what in the _hell_ happened! And don't give me any of that 'family business' bullshit, and tell me-" Bobby was cut off by the sudden sheepish look Castiel began sporting, Dean folded his arms and looked away, unable to contain eye contact while Sam was rubbing the back of his neck, almost awkwardly. "What did you do."

Nobody seemed whiling to speak, but eventually Castiel stepped forward. "This is my doing," He admitted, slowly, hesitantly almost, "We needed information that we did not have, so logically we went after the one person who did." Cas' was tempted to gesture towards Crowley, but decided against doing so. "When he refused to help, my hand was forced and I extracted them manually-" He paused a moment, taking in the hardened glare as he spoke, "The process is very painful, especially for a demon, in which case resurfaces old memories, and fears for some. In this case it brought back old wounds, and pain- I hadn't intended to cause him unnecessary pain-"

"What I don't understand," Sam interrupted, "Is that Crowley _likes _pain, what made this so different?"

Dean looked like he was about to snap at his brother before pausing, as if the thought had never occurred to him. Once again Castiel had this sheepish look spread over his face, "Once again, I apologies."

"What now?" Bobby sounded more tired than angry, feeling the arms around him tighten.

Cas' was hesitant for a moment, only a moment, before opening his mouth. "When I was searching for the information, I had- As humans would put it- _bumped _into Crowleys humanity." Cas' made a slight shrugging gesture with his head, as if that wasn't quite right, "Well, it was more like _brushed, _but I believe you understand what I intended to mean, anyhow." He looked back up at Bobby, straightening his posture. "Regardless, his humanity, or what was left of it at this point, had been forced into a nostalgic cycle, as if pushing it through pins and needles, sharp objects and the like- as in his fears."

"You mean to tell me, you _unintentionally _tortured, the King of Hell." The statement sounded both furious and flat to his ears.

"To put it bluntly, yes." Cas' said with some remorse, "However, the pain itself wasn't what tipped him off."

"It was the emotional damage it caused," Sam finished, running his hand over his face. "Fuck."

"Well that bastard had it coming," Dean muttered, receiving a slap to the back of his head. He nearly struck Sam back, but Cas' got in between them.

"I apologies deeply once again, and I apologies for interrupting," Castiel spoke slowly, carefully. "We'll be on our way."

"Wait, I'm not finished here yet-"

"Yes, you are Dean." Cas' actually scowled, placing a hand on his shoulder and Sam's zapping them out of there.

Crowley hadn't spoken once, just holding onto the hunter. Bobby pushed him forward again, noticing the wetness of his cheeks once again, wiping away the recently shed tears. Crowley couldn't face anyone yet, he was still an emotional mess. Bobby expected that once everything inside of the demon had settled he'd be back to is cocky self in absolutely no time. Bobby moved forward and pressed a kiss against the demons lips, wiping away the tears.

"You okay?" Bobby mumbled, eyes scanning over his face. Crowley didn't do anything at first, before slowly shaking his head.

The quiver in his lower lip made the hunter frown, pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I thought I lost you." Crowley whimpered, and Bobby could feel the demons hands tighten, "I- I saw.. _things _and you were gone and I thought-"

"You thought it was real." Bobby finished, running his hands through his hair, kissing the mans lips once, twice, three times. His nose pressed against the demons, smiling sadly at him. "It wasn't though, okay? I'm here, I'm okay."

Crowley nodded, but his face looked so weary, and broken. "Okay." He muttered brokenly, he cleared his throat, "Okay, okay."

Bobby smiled at him, "Everything's okay." A puff of air burst passed the demons lips, "We're okay."

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP Reviews are appreciated!_


	15. Television

_Characters are not mine- A story request from my Tumblr-_

_Anon: __someone (not me!) needs to write the reaction Crowley has when he finally gets a chance to catch up on all the shows he's missed while locked up in the basement. All the feels. -or just, Crowley reacting to a season finale and flailing at Bobby or something. I just want unabashed fan!Crowley_

* * *

"Growley," Crowley patted his leg, summoning his hell hound from across the room. "C'mon boy."

Growley wagged his tail vigorously, trotting up to his master. Crowley scratched behind his hounds ear idly a moment before making way to sit on his couch.

The King of Hell had been so busy as of late, he hadn't had the time to watch his favorite show. He's missed most of the season so far because of the Winchesters, and missed last seasons finale. He had been so excited when he found that his schedule was clear for a few good hours, and he had time to himself.

Crowley snatched his pajama bottoms, one's he never really wore, seeing as he didn't need to sleep, but owned for occasions such a this; They were black and long, pooling around his feet and hanging on his hips. Grabbing a black oversized hoodie, something he found distasteful, but comfortable, throwing it on and setting his Armani to get cleaned, properly this time around.

The demon snatched his bowl of popcorn from the kitchen counter, strolling into the living room with his loyal hell hound at his heels.

The show had just started, but he had it paused so he could settle himself in, grabbing a blanket from his bed, wrapping it around him while pulling his legs close to his body, sitting criss-cross in the middle of the couch. His hound laid at the foot of his seat, close enough for Crowley to reach forward effortlessly to pat his head.

"Now don't you look cozy." Came the gruff voice standing in the doorway. Crowley looked up at the hunter, shooting the amused man an annoyed look before turning his attention back to the screen.

"I'd hadn't watched Doctor Who in ages, at least not since Tom Baker was the doctor." He set the popcorn bowl to the side and waved the hunter to join him, to which he shook his head.

"No way, the last time you made me watch television with you was when you wanted to watch Girls."

Crowley frowned at the hunter, "Oh, don't you dare deny that you liked it. You were enjoying yourself just as much as I was, now sit." The demon patted the seat beside him; however Bobby just shook his head.

"Robert, _please. _And you _know _that isn't a word I use often."

"No, Crowley." Bobby pushed himself off the doorframe, "I ain't got time for television, besides you have your hound, don't you?"

Crowley patted the top of Growleys head, signaling that he did. However it just looked as if he was just patting air. Bobby took it for what it was and made to leave.

"Bobby, come on, don't make me beg. I can't watch this by myself!"

"Yes you can." Bobby retorted, moving to grab his beer that he had set off earlier.

Crowley huffed, a soft sigh. "But I don't want to." He said slowly, just loud enough for the hunter to hear. Crowley averted his eyes back to the telly just as Bobby turned to look at him.

He heard the frustrated huff of the hunter before heavy footsteps advanced towards him. Crowley couldn't stop the wicked smile as it broke on his lips when he felt the seat next to him dip.

"Glad you could join me, love." Crowley scooted over a bit more so Bobby had more room to sit. The hunter mumbled under his breath, but accepted the space and the other half of the blanket that the demon was sharing.

The show started out simple enough, Crowley was curled up against the hunter, legs pulled close to his body as the main theme began to play. He was extremely far behind on his shows, and needed to catch up desperately.

Hours ticked by as the shows went on, and Bobby was getting into the episodes more and more, commenting every now and again, but he was nowhere near as enthusiastic as the King of Hell. It was down right adorable, if not a bit strange in Bobbys eyes every time he'd see or hear Crowley shout at the TV, laugh a bit too hard and sit there holding his legs and smiling like a complete idiot.

Bobby found himself watching more for the demons reactions more than anything else, but the show was good too. Fantastic, actually.

The two hadn't gotten up all day, once or twice to get more popcorn or a drink or two. At some point the blanket became entangled around the two men, along with their legs; Crowley pressed closely against the hunter as the shows began to draw closer to the end of the first season he never finished.

Bobby had been watching, before hearing that terribly familiar "EX-TER-MIN-ATE EX-TER-MIN-ATE THE DOC-TA" on screen, he thought nothing of it before feeling Crowleys grasp his arms, tightening their grip and holding him like a vice.

Something was happening, an armada of Daleks were on screen, and for some reason Rose, the Doctors companion had this light in her. Bobby must have zoned out or something, because now he was confused as to what was going on.

Crowley watched in earnest as the ninth Doctor took in the Time Vortex energy, after just saving Rose from herself, having become the BadWolf entity. He was dying.

"No no no no no no no.." Crowley leaned forward in his seat, watching as the Doctors hands began to glow, he was regenerating. "No, stop that." The demon mumbled, letting go of Bobby in the process.

'_-fantastic. And you know what? So was I!' _"Noooo!" The word came out as a near drawn out angered whine, his limbs flailed grabbing Bobby almost violently. Crowley cursed vigorously in hell-speak.

When it was over, Crowley was overly livid. His arms were crossed furiously across his chest.

"This stupid _bloody _show.." Crowley trailed off, burying his face in his hands. "How could you let me watch that, Robert. This is all your fault."

"My fault?" Bobby replied, a glint in his eye.

"Yes, all of it. You could have told me to watch something else, you could have told me to watch _nothing at all! _I would have been content to help you around the house, now I just-"

"Crowley, calm down." Bobby chuckled, "I personally though the shows were _fantastic." _And if Crowley smacked the hunter in the face with their blanket, and if Crowley snapped in the second season, or even if Bobby dozed off on the demon in the middle of the next few episodes, no one was the wiser.

* * *

_I will be posting my tumblr requests here in a jumble of one-shots. Feel free to look me up and ask anytime. (Luciferissatan) [I will always keep the requests themselves under anon unless asked directly not to by the person. Anon or not if asking the request on the sight- It would be rude to do so without permission.] Hope you enjoyed~! ^^ LLAP Reviews are appreciated!_


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